Of Men and Monsters
by Calistabelle
Summary: AU response to PadyandMoony’s Snupin Family Challenge. Things should be simple. But when love is involved barely anything is. Severitus/Sevitus, SS/RL SB/RL SS/LE. Full rules inside. I'm following the main plot line of the books as much as possible.
1. Paved With Good Intentions

A plot bunny took over my mind when I read PadyandMoony's Snupin Family Challenge. Hey! Don't look at me like that, I can't help it! And, don't worry, I'm still working on _WtMT _'s sequel. The rules as are as follows:  
1. Remus has raised Harry from a young age.  
2. Harry calls Remus 'dad'.  
3. Anything I like with Sirius. (oh, _boy_, am I going to have fun with that rule!)  
4. Severus and Remus are in love with each other, but neither of them knows of the other's affection or has acted on their own.  
5. How Severus came to be Harry's father is up to me, but he has to be a good guy. Still _Snape_, but a good guy.  
6. Severus and Harry MUST have an established hate/hate relationship. How they each find out is up to me.  
7. Remus, James and Lily were all good parents and Harry was never abused in anyway.  
8. Harry must be protective of Remus.  
9. The only must have relationship is Remus/Severus, but I can play as much as I like with everyone else.  
10. No changing Harry's first or middle name. Surname change is fine.

Now, on with the story. I ask that all readers keep an open mind; Remus is gay, but Sirius and Severus are bi. If you don't even know what that means, choose another story. Any flames will be carelessly flaunted on my profile and laughed at accordingly.  
Much love,  
Cal  
xxx

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Prologue: Paved With Good Intentions

* * *

Caramel. Hot, runny caramel dripping over his shoulders and tied loosely back with a leather tie. Black eyes watched emotionlessly as the werewolf stumbled over his apology again and again.

Severus hated Sirius and James. He hated them with a passion. So, when they tricked their friend into almost killing him, things should have been simple. Because Severus should hate Remus, too. And the whole thing should be pushed aside with nothing more than another brick to add to his wall of bitterness. Another prank to swear vengeance for. Another painful memory to add to his gallery of a painful lifetime. It should have been simple.

But it wasn't.

Because Severus didn't hate Remus. He was completely, totally and irrevocably in love with him.

'Severus, please, I am so, so sorry,' the teenager begged him, amber eyes so large they seemed to take up his entire face. 'Just - I don't - I don't expect forgiveness,' Remus choked. 'Just - don't… don't tell anyone. Don't tell them what a monster I am.'

Severus turned his face away violently, burying his large nose in the clean, lemon-scented pillows of Hogwart's hospital wing. How could Remus say that? It had been a shock to learn the man he loved was a werewolf, but that didn't make him a monster. The transformation - as was his hand in the prank Black and Potter had pulled on Severus - was involuntary. Did Remus really think that Severus could possibly love him any less because of it?

A long breath was released and when Severus opened his eyes again he saw that Remus had stood up, his beautiful eyes flat and dead.

'Right,' he said. 'My mistake.' Then Remus left, the curtain drawn around Severus' bed fluttering slightly in his wake.

Severus wanted to call out to him, to let him know that it wasn't his fault, to say that he'd forgiven him even before the whole thing had happened.

But he couldn't do that.

Because Remus could never, _never_ know that Severus loved him. Severus wouldn't spoil the beautiful boy's life with the dark shadows that were his past, present and promised future. And Severus didn't think, after his mother, his heart could cope with another rejection.

So he watched Remus walk away and locked his heart tight behind his masks and his walls and he vowed that no one would ever have the opportunity to hurt him.

* * *

A whiff of some instantly recognisable, but subtle, smell made Remus' nose twitch. He casually raised his head to see Severus slide into the room.

'Ah, Severus m'boy,' came Albus' guaranteed, overly enthusiastic greeting.

'Professor,' the other man replied, deep scowl never leaving his face.

'Now, now,' the older wizard scolded. 'You're no longer my student, are you? You graduate today.'

'Yay,' Severus snarled sarcastically back at him.

Remus turned his head quickly away and tried his best to refrain from laughing aloud. Sirius and James, his best friends, were so straightforward that sarcasm completely escaped them. But Remus had always appreciated the humour of sarcasm, and Severus Snape was the epitome of sarcastic humour. Or maybe that was just Remus' opinion.

'What are you sniggering about, wolf?' the dark haired teenager spat at him, causing Remus' grin to disappear and his head to whip up to look at the other again.

'Yay,' he said simply.

Something flashed in the obsidian eyes that might have been amusement, but it was gone the next second and Remus was sure he imagined it. 'Not even able to articulate full sentences anymore, wolf? What a disappointment you must be to your parents.'

Remus dearly wished that the barb was nothing more than friendly teasing, but he and Severus were not friends. He wished the other man could have been joking, but he knew that could not possibly be the case.

Remus stood stiffly, eyes downcast. He pulled his book into his bag and headed towards the door, pausing a moment as he opened it, he looked up into Severus eyes.

'I just received a letter informing me of my parents' deaths,' he said simply to the unspoken question and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind him before he could see Severus' response. He leant momentarily against the hard wood and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away. For all his faults, Remus had realised in his fifth year that he was in love with Severus. A love that he knew would never be returned. But that was fine. He would never see Severus again once he departed from the Hogwarts express that evening. Never again would Remus have to watch those obsidian eyes smoulder with hatred for him.

* * *

Her slim figure trembled in his arms, crystalline tears staining wind-whipped rosy cheeks.

'Shh, Lily,' Severus muttered into his best friend's hair. 'He'll come home.'

Another sob wracked through Lily's body and she clung ever tighter to the front of Severus' robes. 'How can you know that, Sev? How can you know?'

Severus looked to the ceiling and hoped that she wouldn't notice the lie. He hated Lily's husband with his entire being, but he loved Lily enough to not want any harm to come to the other man. 'The Dark Lord would have told us if he'd killed James,' he lied. There was no way of telling if James Potter was dead or alive.

'Liar,' Lily muttered into his shirt. Then she raised her face to look into his eyes. 'But thank you for lying,' she said.

'Anything, Lily,' Severus spoke into her hair. 'Anything for you Lily.'

The red head looked at him for a long moment, a strange expression stealing across her face. 'If - if he's dead…' she started, her voice trailing off.

'Don't say that, Lils,' Severus cut her off, placing a finger over her lips to quieten her. 'He isn't dead.'

'Sev, could you make me believe that?' she asked him, her voice getting quieter as she spoke. 'I - I just need… need to forget that he might - might be dead.' She turned her brilliant green eyes to gaze directly at him. 'Can you… can you make me forget?'

'How?' Severus asked her immediately, knowing that his brilliant Lily would have thought of a means of distraction if she was asking such a direct question.

The answer to his question scared them both. Her hands wrapped tighter into his shirt and she raised herself just a little and pressed a soft, uncertain kiss to his jaw line.

'Lily…' he warned.

'It's ok, Sev,' she replied, whispering right into his ear. 'If he comes back, he'll forgive me. For tonight I need to forget. Forget that he might not be coming back, that he may never have the opportunity to forgive me.'

Her hands moved to his neck, but Severus caught them and trapped them against his chest. There was a long time of silence before he said again, barely audibly, 'Lily.' She continued to just look at him and he sighed. 'Will _you_ be able to forgive _me_?'

'I love you, Sev.' she answered as though it were the answer to all of life's problems.

'Not like this,' he said, indicating between them.

She disagreed, 'For tonight I do.' She kissed his jaw again. 'And if James doesn't ever come home…' her voice trailed off, the question clear in her eyes, even as she was unafraid to voice it.

Severus let out a long, tormented breath. 'Anything, Lily. For you, anything.'

And then he ducked his head and kissed her full on the lips, the first step towards letting her forget, for just one night, that James might not come home.

* * *

Remus knew that he shouldn't find it even remotely funny, but Sirius had a hangdog feel to him at the moment and the phrasing was so completely appropriate the werewolf was having a little difficulty keeping his amusement to himself.

Biting back his smile he asked him gently, 'Siri? What's wrong?'

The other man sighed deeply and looked up into Remus' face. 'I have a problem,' he said simply.

'Oh?' Remus asked, still trying not to laugh.

'Yes,' Sirius snapped at him, before lowering his eyes and sighing again. 'I'm in love, Moony,' he said quietly.

Remus' merely raised his eyebrows at the man before him. There was nothing particularly _odd_ about Sirius' proclamation - the man was always in love with one person or another - but it was a little strange that Sirius was so upset about it. Usually he'd be bouncing off the walls, shouting with glee to anyone who'd listen, and many who wouldn't, that he had just found the love of his life. Beyond a shadow of a doubt within the next four months he'd be doing the same thing with someone else' name on his tongue.

'Don't look at me like that,' Sirius complained, slouching even further down in the sofa.

'Sirius, you're always in love with someone.'

Sirius snorted. 'Yeah, but usually it isn't my best friend.' Then, as if only just realising what he'd said, he turned wide, horrified grey eyes up to look at Remus and slammed both hands over his mouth.

'J-James?' Remus choked out, his earlier amusement vanished in a haze of surprised disbelief.

As if committed to telling the truth now, Sirius shook his head slowly.

'Not Peter!' Remus gasped out, as horrified now as Sirius was at spilling his troubles.

Again the other man shook his head, this time even slower. His hands dropped from his mouth and curled like claws in his laps, scraping at his clothing as though trying to stop themselves from -

'Me?' Remus squeaked, eyes wide and feeling very much like he might faint.

Instantly Sirius was off the couch and on his knees at Remus' feet, watching his friend with sincere anxiety. 'Please, Moony, don't hate me. I know you probably don't even _like_ men, and I really didn't mean to say anything, but you know you always make me spill my guts and I'm sure that it'll be like anyone else - over within months. Right?'

His words came out in a rush and Remus had to concentrate to keep up with them. The only thing his brain really picked up was the lie in Sirius' tone. Not for the first bit, oh no. Sirius was being completely, well, serious, when he said he was in love with Remus. But the last part, where he'd said it would only last a couple of months. Sirius was lying to himself, trying to convince himself that if Remus rejected him things wouldn't be so bad.

Remus knew because it was the same lie he had told himself over and over again about Severus.

It must have only been a couple of seconds, but the thick silence seemed to go on forever, Sirius waiting for his answer and Remus searching for the right one.

He was not… _unattracted_ to Sirius, but he had been in love with Severus for so long he didn't even spare a glance for other men. But Severus would never love him. And here, offering himself up, was a loving, upfront man who hadn't been able to lie to Remus since they were twelve. A man that Remus already loved as a best friend. Would transition from friends to lovers be so difficult?

Remus looked at Sirius for a long moment before lowering his head and kissing the other man so, so softly on the lips. It was safe, warm and everything that Remus could ask for in a partner. Except Severus.

But then Sirius smiled his blinding, heartfelt smile and Remus swore that he would never again even think Severus' name in that context. His future belonged to Sirius.

* * *

Severus was slumped forwards in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over him, looking grim. After a moment or two, Severus raised his face, and he looked like a man who had lived a hundred years of misery.

'I thought… you were going… to keep her… safe'

'She and James put their faith in the wrong person,' said Dumbledore. 'Rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?'

Severus' breathing was shallow.

'Her boy survives,' said Dumbledore.

With a tiny jerk of his head, Severus seemed to flick off an irksome fly.

'Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans' eyes, I am sure?'

'DON'T!' bellowed Severus. 'Gone… Dead…'

'Is this remorse, Severus?'

Severus stood suddenly, expression as black as his eyes. 'How dare you?' he asked, voice low and deadly. 'You know perfectly well that Lily was a sister to me, and yet you dare insinuate something else?'

Dumbledore looked up at the young man before him, any pity that might have been in him second earlier was gone. 'Evidence suggests otherwise, Severus,' he said coolly.

'What do you mean?'

'A child, lost within a month of conception. The result of a sexual liaison between yourself and Lily Potter.'

Severus laughed a horrible, disturbed laugh. 'You think that proof, old man?' he asked darkly. 'That is proof that I loved her. That I'd give her anything she asked for, without a second thought for the ramifications on my life.'

Dumbledore watched the man before him and nodded quickly to himself. 'Very well, Severus. I believe you. If James could forgive you for it, then I suppose I can.' He paused, taking in every last detail of Severus again. 'If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.'

Severus seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore's words appeared to take a long time to reach him.

'What - what do you mean?'

'You know how she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son.'

'Anything,' Severus replied instantly. 'Anything for Lily.'

* * *

Remus was furious. No, he wasn't even that. He was beyond furious. He was seconds away from becoming feral. Now that was scary enough on a normal wizard, but when it was a wizard who also happened to be a werewolf it was down right terrifying.

Not only had Peter betrayed Lily and James, but he had successfully managed to place all of the blame on Sirius. Sirius had attempted to chase after the rat, but he was currently locked in his and Remus' bedroom under petrificous totalus for safety. And, if that wasn't bad enough, the meddling old fool Dumbledore had taken Lily and James' one year old to Lily's sister's house.

Remus didn't care if he was breaking one or all of the rules, he apparated in to the middle of the Dursley's garden, in the middle of the day, in front of at least five muggle witnesses.

'Petunia!' he shouted, banging furiously on the door until it swung open to reveal a bloated, purple-faced man.

'What the ruddy hell do you want?' Purple-face blurted furiously.

'I have come to retrieve my godson, Harry Potter,' Remus said as calmly as he could. 'I believe an old man with a long white beard left him in your care sometime last night or this morning?'

An unearthly glee lit up Purple's face. 'I dunno 'bout an old man,' he said, suddenly excited. 'But we got a baby and letter dumped on our doorstep last night.'

Remus felt a fuse somewhere inside him blow. Very, very carefully he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out again slowly. Then he opened his eyes.

'If you would be so kind as to give me both I won't hassle you any further,' he said politely, the deadly undertone in his voice seeming to excite Purple even further.

'Certainly,' the other man said, disappearing into the house for a moment, before reappearing with a young toddler with bright green eyes, messy black hair and a lightening shaped scar on his forehead. He dumped the child and an unopened letter unceremoniously into Remus' arms. 'Good riddance to bad rubbish,' Purple said with a nasty smile and then slammed the door in Remus' face.

Trying very hard to keep the werewolf in him at bay, Remus stared down into the eyes of two of his best friends' son.

'Harry,' he said softly to the child, whose eyes blinked furiously back at him for a moment.

'Moo,' Harry said. 'Moo'y.'

'Yes, that's right, child,' Remus said, a fingertip tracing Harry's scar.

'Pads?' Harry asked, question clear in his lucid green eyes.

Remus smiled. 'He's at home, would you like to meet him?'

Harry nodded, hands clawing out of the bundle of blankets and gripping Remus' long hair in chubby fingers. 'Ma, Da?' He asked the same question for different people.

There werewolf sighed sadly and tucked the child safely into the crook of his arm. 'They're dead, Harry. They were taken away to a special place, but don't worry. Padfoot and I will take care of you.'

Harry nodded in understanding and smiled shyly up at the man. 'Love you, Moo'y,' he said.

'I love you too, Harry.'

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Ta da! What do you think so far? This is just the prologue, obviously, but I don't expect this story to be too long. Excuse any and all mistakes, they are mine and mine alone. Don't forget to drop me a review!  
Much love,  
Cal  
xxx

_PS You probably already know, but just to make sure, the majority of the meeting between just Severus and Dumbledore is JK's words, I just changed it a little bit. I own nothing, of course._


	2. Of Precaution and Paranoia

For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine.  
For reasons unknown to anyone except a nag inside me I couldn't write this chapter without listening to Kaiser Chief's 'I Predict a Riot' over and over. I am thoroughly sick of the song now, so I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Much love, Cal xxx

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Chapter One: Of Precaution and Paranoia

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Ever since he was little Remus had woken early. A 'morning person' his mum had called him. No one mentioned that he'd only started waking up early after he'd been bitten, it was simply something that happened. Most of the time, when Remus had a job or he'd been at school or had something planned for the day, waking up early was a blessing. But, after the night he'd had last night, it was everything the rest of being a werewolf was; a curse.

Harry himself had been perfectly calm the previous night. The eleven year old had listened to all of Sirius' worries and damnations in unblinking silence before bidding the two older men goodnight and disappearing up the stairs to his room. But Sirius was another matter entirely.

Remus and Sirius had first got together just over eleven years before and, for the most part, their relationship had lasted with very little difficulty. But, on occasion, like last night, things took to the rocks. Ever since Peter's betrayal of the Potters Sirius had become overly paranoid, jumping at the smallest noises and his wand was never too far from his hand. Remus had accepted that in the man, but sometimes it went too far.

Last night had started with the normal parental worries of an only child moving out to go to Hogwarts, but it escalated quickly. Sirius and Remus' trust in Dumbledore had shattered at the same time orders for both their arrests had arrived. The headmaster _knew_ that neither of them were guilty of the crimes they were accused of, and yet he had supported the orders through the courts. And, to send someone who was, in all except the blood sense of the word, their son, into the claws of a manipulative old man did not sit well with either of them.

Sirius, being Sirius, had been vocal about his protestations, adding in to his rants all the things that could possibly go wrong. In a school full of uneducated young witches and wizards, that was an awful lot. So Harry had sat and listened all evening to Sirius' worries and concerns, a slightly speculative gleam to his eye that made the Marauder in Remus proud.

Eventually Harry had excused himself for an early night and had left Remus, ironically, to the wolves. And then Sirius had started asking Remus _how could he do it_? How could Remus send an innocent, eleven year old boy, their _son_, to all intents and purposes, to _that_ school? In hindsight, mentioning that they, too, had gone to Hogwarts wasn't the most intelligent thing to do. But it was a few days before the full moon and Remus was tired and not thinking straight.

What followed was an explosive row that hung all of their dirty laundry out for anyone to hear. Well, if the wards surrounding their house weren't so strong that no one could even think about the place.

Being on the run was not conducive to a happy relationship and yet, for the most part, it worked. Bringing up Harry had been like marrying Sirius and adopting a son of their very own. In many ways it was exactly that - except in the legal sense. Sirius and Remus could not get married. Who would marry two wanted men? Two men who had huge reward sums hanging over their capture and arrest? And beside that, getting married was still not legal in wizarding Britain - the closest they could get was a civil partnership.

Remus had long since resigned himself to an unmarried life and was thrilled that he could have something that came so close to what he'd always dreamed of having, but never expected to get. Sirius, on the other hand, often bemoaned the fact that they could never marry. And he frequently complained about not being able to officially adopt Harry, godson or no.

All of this got yelled in Remus' face and, when the werewolf calmly pointed out that they were Harry's parents in every possible way except in the eyes of the law, he found himself sleeping on the couch.

Which was why Remus was in a terrible mood when he took his steaming cup of tea into the library early the next morning.

The mood was immediately dispelled, however, when he saw a familiar mop of messy black hair just peeking over the top of a low-backed armchair. Walking silently around the chair to face Harry it both warmed his heart and sent a curiously painful tang down his spine to see the boy curled up asleep on the furniture with a book still open beneath his limp hands.

So many people, when they looked at Harry, would see only his father's features, and his mother's eyes. But, in this moment, Harry looked so much like Lily Evans had, curled up in an armchair in the Gryffindor common room after falling asleep over revision notes, or a text book or her favourite novel. Harry's face in sleep was bright and innocent, slight smile curling the very edges of his lips like it was too shy to properly show itself.

'Ah, cub,' Remus breathed out, a mirror smile spreading across his face.

Harry blinked blearily a couple of times, stretching like a cat and rolling his neck, wincing at the soreness in it from staying in an awkward position all night. 'Dad?' he asked.

'You alright?' Remus asked, ruffling Harry's constantly messy inky black hair with one hand and perching himself on one of the chair's arms.

Harry smiled ruefully. 'I… heard you two last night,' he offered as the only explanation.

On any other night Remus would have flamed a brilliant red and mumbled something about killing Sirius for forgetting a silencing charm. But it wasn't any other night and Remus had no reason to blush.

'I'm sorry you had to hear that, cub.'

'It's… does getting married to you and adopting me really mean that much to Sirius?' Harry asked.

Remus sighed and took a long sip from his cup of tea to avoid answering the question. But eventually he had to say something. 'Sirius… is very protective. He sees me and you as 'his' but until the law agrees with him he feels it's wrong to be so protective.'

'You're a terrible liar, Dad,' Harry told him simply, before standing and putting the book back on the small pile on the coffee table.

'Asking why marriage means so much to Sirius is like asking why you call me 'dad' but he's still 'Pads',' Remus tried to explain.

Harry flushed lightly at that statement and ducked his head. Sirius, he knew, was as much his father as Remus and yet… Sirius would never be a parental figure. He was a fun big brother, someone who seemed stuck at the 'juvenile' stage of life.

Remus grinned a little and sank into Harry's chair. 'So, kid, you ready for school?'

Harry, recognising and accepting the invitation plopped himself down on Remus' lap, careful not to jog the mug of steaming liquid. 'I dunno,' he said. 'I thought I was, a couple of days ago. Then, last night, with Sirius…' he trailed off, uncertain on how to finish.

'He give your confidence a bit of a bashing?'

'I love him, Dad, he's just… he says the wrong things, sometimes.'

Remus nodded sagely. 'Don't I know,' he agreed. 'But do you have all of your books and things ready?'

Harry's laugh was a little strained, but it was there and wonderful and the best kind of medicine. The two talked quietly for an hour or so before Sirius emerged from upstairs and the three of them made their way to the kitchen, a slightly awkward silence stretching between them. Once Harry had escaped upstairs once again, this time with the excuse of putting the last things in his bag, Sirius turned with accusing eyes to his partner.

'What did you say to him, Remus?' Sirius barked out, residual anger from the previous night still evident in his tone.

'I didn't say anything, Siri. He overheard you last night. Add that to the fact that you clearly don't want him going to Hogwarts, Harry's not exactly chipper this morning.'

Sirius' scowl deepened, he opened his mouth, shut it and then repeated the action, looking remarkably like a fish. Then he span on his heel and stormed out of the room, upstairs after Harry, leaving Remus to brood over a fifth cup of tea that morning.

* * *

Neither Sirius or Remus could risk seeing Harry off at Platform 9¾, but the boy didn't mind so much. He knew the risks that would present themselves if either of his living parents came with him and, besides, he was excited and nervous to be off on this journey, this adventure, on his own. Remus had laughed at his enthusiasm to be off, but Sirius had been more refrained, the air between them still fraught with anxiety and the older man's accusations. Harry hoped his Pads would forgive him soon.

The platform had been busy, full of families saying farewell, of pre-Hogwarts aged children complaining about not being allowed to go with older siblings, of students welcoming one another after three months of summer apart. Harry had spared a thought for his parents before diving enthusiastically into the crowd, dragging his trunk behind him.

Once the train had left the station and the initial rush to find a compartment had settled down some Harry had found himself in a compartment half way down the train with a dark skinned boy, two blondes, and a slim, black haired girl. They all seemed to know each other, but they had been friendly and open and Harry didn't feel too left out of the group.

'Blaise Zabini,' the boy with the dark complexion introduced himself to Harry.

'Theodore Nott, but call me Theo,' one of the blondes said next.

The only girl of the group laughed. 'Or Teddy!' she teased, ducking the friendly cuff aimed at the back of her head. 'I'm Pansy, by the way.'

Harry grinned widely at his new friends' antics and turned expectantly to the last boy, who was only a little taller than Harry, the shortest of the group.

The boy let out a long-suffering sigh and decided to finally grace Harry with his name. 'Draco,' he said. 'Draco Malfoy.'

Harry frowned briefly, but immediately wiped any expression but amused interest off his face. His fathers had told him little of the first war, but he knew that his parents had died for the cause and he knew what his name meant to the rest of the wizarding world. He'd also heard several other names of those who supported Voldemort mentioned. Three Malfoys were mentioned - Abraxas, the only remaining schoolmate of the Dark Lord, Lucius, Abraxas' son and Narcissa, Lucius' wife.

'I see you've heard of my family,' the boy, Draco said, not fooled by Harry's mask.

Harry spoke to them for the first time, other than uttering 'hello'. 'I've not heard much about the war with Voldemort, but in what little I have heard your name is… somewhat mentioned.'

'Our parents have all played their roles,' Ted spoke up, his eyes zoning in on Harry now, his suspicion clear.

Pansy spoke up, 'My father, Ted's father and uncle, Blaise's mother and almost everyone in Draco's family bear the Dark Mark.'

Harry didn't even try and mask his shock and he sank back into the seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. 'Perhaps… yes. I think it'd be best if I leave,' he said quietly, voice shaking just a little.

'Too good for us?' Draco spat scornfully. 'Don't want to breathe the same sullied air as Death Eaters' kids?'

Harry gulped and shook his head a little, shrinking back further. For a moment it seemed as though the other four might crowd him completely out of being, but then a strange change came over the boy.

Green eyes sparked with some unnamed, mischievous emotion and the messy black hair seemed to become even darker as a small smile stole across Harry's features. 'It's more a case of…' he paused, searching for the right word… 'preservation. For both me and you four.'

'Oh?' the aristocratic blonde asked, a single, perfect eyebrow sliding up his forehead.

Harry chuckled. 'Allow me to introduce myself to you. My name is Potter. Harry Potter.'

There was a long moment of shocked silence before Blaise burst out into appreciative laughter, the others watching the volatile situation carefully.

'Harry Potter,' Blaise repeated once he stopped laughing, rubbing his nose with the back of his fist. 'Well I must say, _that_ wasn't what I expected. Still, who am I to turn a young man away?'

The others smirked at the comment and Harry wondered what joke he'd missed.

'Are you going to turn me over to your parents?' Harry asked, a little uncertainly.

'To what point?' This was Pansy. 'Voldemort's dead. Has been, thanks to you, for ten years.'

Harry laughed a little shakily. 'You really think he's going to stay dead once people start hearing that I'm still alive?'

Draco snorted. 'Oh, don't fool yourself, Potter. If the Dark Lord were to come back he'd have done so years before now. Why would he wait until you could actually put up a fight?'

The other boy had a point, but it did not disturb Harry's deep-set belief that Voldemort would return sometime soon and set out to finish what he had started. 'True, but if he does will you turn me over to your parents or to him personally?'

Pansy looked a little affronted and opened her mouth to deny it when Draco spoke before her. 'Probably,' he said dryly.

Harry watched the other boy for a long moment, narrowed eyes taking in every inch of the other's appearance. 'Brilliant,' he declared cheerfully once he was done. 'Do call me, Harry, though. Anyone who calls me Harold will not like it. And trust me when I say I know a fair bit about pranks.'

Blaise laughed again, slapping Harry on the back. Ted looked still a little wary, particularly of Harry's easy acceptance of Draco's admission to the likelihood of their later betrayal, but seemed happy enough to turn his back on the others and open up a thick, dull looking book. Pansy seemed delighted and even Draco was reluctantly amused.

The rest of the train ride passed peacefully and relatively quickly, talk turning to anything and everything that popped into the heads of the eleven year olds until, finally, the subject of school houses came up. It was clear to the others that they would be in Slytherin, but Harry was still a question mark.

'You know that your adoring public will expect a Golden Gryffindor?' Pansy asked, elbowing Harry softly.

'If you ever want to talk to me again,' Draco said snottily, 'Then I suggest you don't get sorted into Gryffindor - or Hufflepuff,' he added as an aside.

Harry laughed and shook his head. 'There's nothing wrong with Gryffindor,' he defended.

Four blatantly disbelieving faces stared back at him.

'My Dad and Pads were Gryffindors,' Harry explained with a shrug.

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'Do we want to know the extent of this insanity?' he asked.

Harry laughed merrily. 'What did you think, Draco, that I'd lived on the streets, raised by tramps and bag-ladies? No! I was raised by a pair of wolves, like Romulus and Remus!' He laughed again as Draco's other eyebrow joined the first and the other first years started edging away from him.

After a moment of feral grinning he put his new friends out of their misery. 'I've been raised by a werewolf and a Grim animagus since Voldemort's little visit. So not actual wolves… but about as close as you can get!'

'An actual werewolf?' Pansy asked, curious.

'Uh huh,' Harry affirmed, nodding. 'He has claws and fur and everything.'

'The rumours are true then?' Ted asked.

Harry hesitated a moment - he didn't want this information to get back to Dumbledore. So, instead of answering he asked, 'Which ones?'

Ted rolled his eyes, but saw the wariness Harry had towards them still. 'That Remus Lupin kidnapped you?'

'Sure, _kidnapped_ me,' Harry said, still a little uncertain. He bit his look and paused, wondering if the others were going to say anything. When everyone continued to watch him expectantly Harry expanded on his story, telling the others what he knew of that night ten years ago.

'Sirius Black didn't betray my parents that night - Peter Pettigrew and Dumbledore did,' he said slowly, sure that his new friends would have no problem with verbally attacking Dumbledore, but not sure how they'd react to Sirius' guiltlessness. 'My Dad - that's Remus - stopped him from doing anything rash and that stopped Sirius from getting arrested. Then he went to the Muggles were I'd been left on the doorstep and collected me. Then they moved with me to one of the lesser known Black properties and I grew there with them as my parents.'

'Pennsylvania Cottage?' Draco asked.

'Yes,' Harry said, throwing the other boy a puzzled look.

'My mother and my aunt used to be Blacks before they married. Which makes us, I suppose, second step-cousins. Sort of. Pennsylvannia Cottage disappeared when the order for Sirius' arrest arrived in court. My family has long suspected that's where he's been,' Draco explained.

'Second step-cousins sort of?' Harry asked, trying to copy Draco and raise a single eyebrow. His face twisted into a strangely shaped grimace and Blaise and Pansy laughed out loud, Ted sighing and turning back to his book. Draco did the expression Harry was attempting and he blushed.

'Second step-cousins sort of,' Draco drawled with derision.

Harry's face smoothed and he grinned at the other boy. Draco watched him a moment before a tiny, heartfelt smile crept at the edges of his mouth too.

'Friends?' Draco asked, sticking a hand out.

'Friends,' Harry agreed, shaking the offered hand heartily.

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_First chapter… what do you guys think? Many thanks to everyone who left me a review (hint hint) and I shall post the next chapter next week!  
Much love  
Cal  
xxx_

_PS I'm keeping the chapters fairly short and I don't intend for there to be any more than about thirty? Other than that I can't really tell you how long this thing is going to be.  
__PPS If you're lucky and I get into the swing of this story I'll post two chapters a week, but for that to happen you have to revieeeew! (again with the unsubtle hints…)_


	3. Of Hats and Compulsions

For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!)  
Warnings (as the plot line becomes clearer in my head): muchly Dumbledore bashing, slash (obviously), and nonGryffindor!Harry. More later.

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Chapter Two: Of Hats and Complusions

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When the train finally pulled to a stop Harry and his new friends joined the throngs of students and made their way out and onto a platform that seemed far too small for the number of students occupying it. Shivering a bit from the sudden cold, Harry followed a large giant of a man with a huge, shaggy beard that seemed to have swallowed his face.

As if reading his thoughts Draco leant over to whisper in his ear, 'That's Hagrid. He got expelled in his third year for killing someone, would you believe it? Seems only just smart enough to keep breathing.'

Not quite appreciating the other boy's sense of humour, Harry offered a slight smile and continued, glad for the pressing silence. No one really knew why they weren't talking, but it was so dark you couldn't tell whether they were in the middle of a forest or in an open field.

Before too long the narrow path they were being lead down came to the edge of a massive black lake and Harry and the other first years saw Hogwarts Castle for the first time. There didn't seem to be anyone who didn't draw in a deep breath the first time they saw it and, consequentially, no one was paying much attention to which boats they ended up in.

Harry and Draco, who had through no verbal agreement decided to stick together, ended up in a boat with two large boys who looked like there was more air in their heads than brain. Draco seemed to know them, so Harry accepted their presence without much more than a curious look, wondering what it was that was making him trust the Malfoy boy. He didn't have much time to question himself - or, indeed, the others - before the small fleet of boats pushed off from the banks and silence once more descended.

The journey across the lake was short and spent admiring the Castle that glittered with a thousand candles' light and loomed over them like something out of a fairytale.

'Heads down!' the giant yelled as the first boats reached the cliff and Harry barely had time to duck before their boat slid through a moist green curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles.

After the discovery of one of the other first year boy's pet toad, which had Draco and the other future Slytherins sniggered quietly behind their hands, the group clambered up a passageway in the rock, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

'Everyone here?' the giant asked. 'You there, still got yer toad?'

After getting not more response than a few nodded heads he raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door, that swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry recognised her immediately as Professor 'Minnie' McGonagall from Pads and his Dad's stories.

'The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall,' said the Giant.

'Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.'

She pulled the door wide and led the first years across the flagged stone floor. Harry turned back to glance at the giant, remembering him too, a little, now that he knew his name. Pads was the story teller of his two guardians, and most of his stories were about pranking the Slytherins and skiving classes and homework. Giant game keepers were, apparently, not the most interesting of things.

Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty room just off the Entrance Hall. The hum of hundreds of voices filtered through the walls and Harry guessed that the rest of the school had already arrived and were waiting for them.

The Professor caught the nervous attention of all of the first-years and uneasy silence once again covered the group. She welcomed them and informed them, for the profit of the muggle-borns, of the four house names, informing them that points would be awarded or taken away depending on behaviour and work and that a House Cup would be awarded at the end of the year for the House with most points. Finally, she told them all that their sorting would take place in a few moments and that they should smarten themselves up. One last disparaging look was spared for the first years before she swept out of the room.

Conversation immediately bubbled forth as speculations were made as to how they would be sorted. Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud as a red-headed, freckled boy just behind him muttered to his neighbour that his brothers had said they would be fighting trolls. Draco shot him a curious look and Harry relayed what he had heard, making Draco laugh as well.

'What is it then?' The red-head asked, looking put out to have people laughing at him already.

Draco looked the other boy up and down before smirking. 'Weasley. Red hair, freckles and more children than your parents can afford.'

The Weasley boy flushed a horrible red colour and opened his mouth to retort furiously, but Harry stepped in first.

'Draco,' Harry said warningly. 'If you can only judge people by who their families are, should I look else where for my friends?'

Draco frowned darkly at Harry for a moment, before shaking his head.

Fighting the urge to pat Draco on the head and tell him 'good boy' Harry turned back to the Weasley boy. 'Sorry about that. What was your name?'

'Ron Weasley,' the red head said, sticking his hand out warily.

Harry reached forward to shake it, but before he could he was interrupted several screams broke out. Whipping his wand out he twirled to face the direction of the disturbance, barely recognising that Draco did the same at his side.

'What the-?' Ron muttered at his other side, but not before Draco had started sniggering again, sticking his wand back in his pocket.

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing, but as soon as Harry realised there was no great risk he put his wand away and turned back to continue his conversation with Ron.

'I'm Harry,' he said. 'This is Draco and, um…' Harry trailed off, looking up at the two boys that they had shared a boat with. 'OK, Draco, who _are_ they?'

Draco, who had gone back to glaring at Ron after the screams had abated, took a moment to realise he was being spoken to. 'Oh. This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle.'

The two boys in question frowned at each other and looked across at one another. They didn't say anything, but from what Harry could tell, Draco had got their names the wrong way round.

Before anything else could be said Professor McGonagall returned to lead them all out into the Great Hall.

Hearing Ron's gulp beside him Harry chuckled lightly again, saying, 'Don't worry, it's not trolls.' This, however, did not seem to reassure Ron much and Harry had to bite his lip from laughing out loud.

Following the Professor's directions the first years paired up and walked after her in a line as she led them into the Great Hall.

It was exactly as Pads and his Dad had described it. The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden goblets and plates. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, the teachers behind them.

The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He remembered what his Dad had said, that it was bewitched to look like the sky outside, he hadn't realised that it seemed almost as though there was no ceiling.

Whilst he had been staring at the ceiling a stool had been placed before the first years and, upon that stool, the Sorting Hat. Everyone's gaze turned expectantly to the Hat and waited. Harry frowned, didn't they just have to put it on and it'd tell them what House they'd be in? He jumped a foot in the air when the Hat first twitched, then started singing:

'_Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!'_

The whole Hall burst into applause as the Hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing again as he heard several releaved sighs from the other first years. Draco shot him a superior smirk and Harry supposed that the blonde must have known what the Sorting entailed already as well. Pads hadn't meant to let it slip but, well, he hadn't meant to let slip where the kitchens were, either.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. 'When I call your name, you will put on the Hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted,' she said, and then proceeded to start calling out names in alphabetical order.

Just before Draco's name was called the blonde tipped Harry a wink, wishing him luck and whispering quietly in his ear; 'I can't wait to see their faces when your name is called.'

The Hat, when set on Draco's head, fair shrieked 'SLYTHERIN!' without a moment's pause. Draco smirked down at the rest of the Hall, his eyes pausing a moment on Harry, who grinned up at his new friend. A few more names and after most of the group of friends he'd met on the train had also been sorted into Slytherin, it was finally Harry's turn. The Professor had been quite prompt about reading people's names, but it took her quite a moment to read out his. When she finally did, her voice was shaking slightly and a thick silence settled over the Hall and all the people within it.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, then walked up to the stool and sat down on it. Feeling uncomfortable under everyone's gaze Harry was looking forward to having the Hat drop down over his eyes like it had on the other students. When it didn't, he looked up curiously at Professor McGonagall to see that she had frozen quite still.

'Professor?' he asked, flashing a glance over at the Slytherin table, where Draco, Pansy and Theodore were all shaking with silent laughter. Pansy shrugged hopelessly at Harry's questioning look and both of the other boys laughed harder.

After a moment Professor McGonagall seemed to come to her senses and she straightened up, dropping the Hat primly on Harry's messy hair.

For a couple of seconds there was silence and dark as the Hat sank down over his eyes. Harry wondered for a moment whether the Hat was having a bit of shock at seeing him as well. He waited.

'Hmm,' said a small voice in his ear. 'Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Quite a sharp mind as well. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?'

'Somewhere they don't expect me,' Harry whispered to the Hat in his mind.

'Oh?' the Hat asked him. 'Wanting to break the rules already? But, no… trouble is going to have to come searching for _you_, but, still, you don't want to be the model 'boy hero' do you? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head…'

'I don't want to follow blindly in my parents' footsteps,' Harry begged of the Hat.

'Your parents… you do seem to have an awful lot of them don't you? Five parents… you're sure you don't want to be sorted as they were? No? Very well it'll be - RAVENCLAW!'

And with that the Hat was swiped off his head before Harry got the chance to ask - _five_ parents? Maybe he'd just misheard? But, no, with the overwhelming silence of a Hall that hadn't even applauded his Sorting, and the Hat talking directly into his mind, he couldn't have heard wrong. The Hat was surely just mistaken then. Unless there was something that Pads and his Dad weren't telling him.

Harry was glad that he'd been paying some kind of attention to where the previous Ravenclaws had gone, because otherwise he would have had to stand at the front staring at the other students dumbly. Trying to pretend that the deafening silence hadn't hurt him at all, Harry took a seat closest to the Slytherin table, so that he was back to back with Pansy. The black haired girl leant back and patted him softly twice on the shoulder and, when Harry turned to check he saw that the others were smiling at him as well and that made him feel a little better at least.

The rest of the Sorting gradually resumed, slowly becoming louder until, finally, it was over and the attention of the students was called to the headmaster, who stood. Harry looked up at the old wizard with the long white beard, half-moon spectacles and pale lavender robes and tried his best not to scowl. His Dad had told him what his Uncle Vernon had said, the day he'd been 'kidnapped'. This man, this headmaster, had left Harry, a one year old with hundreds of Voldemort's Death Eaters still after him, on the doorstep of relations who hated him.

'Good riddance to bad rubbish,' was what Vernon had said to Remus the day he'd taken Harry away. The black-haired boy shuddered and tried not to imagine how his life might have been if his Dad hadn't 'kidnapped' him. If the headmaster had had his way.

Schooling his expression into a blank mask Harry turned his gaze once more to the Headmaster.

'Welcome!' the old man said. 'Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

'Thank you.'

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether he should be disgusted or not. The other students may not have noticed it, but underneath the words the Headmaster had uttered was a calming spell, along with a compulsion one. The calming one was for the students and teachers in general, but the compulsion one was for him and him alone.

Fighting his sudden, unnatural urge to say something derogative to his new Slytherin friends, Harry turned and hissed to Pansy, 'Dumbledore's trying to make me your enemy, pretend I insulted you or something.' All the while pretending that he had just said something horrible to Pansy.

Pansy's act was flawless. Her back stiffened and a mask of fury placed itself on her face. It took Harry a moment to realise that not much of it was an act, it was done in anger for Harry.

The girl span and hissed back at Harry, her words lost to everyone else in the din, 'What the hell? Doesn't he think you capable of making your own friends?'

Harry snorted, masking it as a sneer. 'No,' he retorted incredulously. Then he span around, turning his back on Pansy and ignoring the eyes he was sure were now glaring holes into his back. The urge to insult her was still strong, but the headmaster seemed pleased and the feeling drifted off to a background ache that could be easily ignored. He sighed and turned to the other first year Ravenclaws who were looking at him curiously. Harry rolled his eyes and muttered something about the train, that had some of the others nodding sympathetically.

'So,' he said, louder this time so they could actually hear him. 'I'm Harry. Who are you guys?'

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_Oo-ee-oo! The plot does thickeneth. Um, yeah… Sorry for the miles long wait on this one, I shall be more prompt from now on, pinky swear! I've just had a very busy time just before Christmas this year. Hell, I'm still busy, just not quite _as_. Anyways, I hoped you liked this chapter and I'm sorry if you don't like Dumbledore bashing, but it's so much fuuuuun.  
Much love,  
Cal  
xxx_

_PS, you'll probably notice that sections of this are from the original book. Like I've said before, none of the characters are mine and, though it's AU so of course there will be discrepancies, I'm going to be sticking to the 'Main' plot line as much as possible. _


	4. Of Potions and Parents

_For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!) Enjoy!_

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Chapter Three: Of Potions and Parents

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In the same year as Harry there were five other boys and five girls in the Ravenclaw house. Harry found himself in a room with Stephen Cornfoot, a mousy-brown haired pureblood with a wide, heart shaped face and square, rimless glasses that were constantly slipping down his nose, and Kevin Entwhistle, a muggleborn with sandy blonde hair and large blue eyes. The other three boys, Michael Corner, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, having a separate room as there were so many of them.

Stephen, in spite of his slightly annoying greater-than-thou attitude, was quick to start a conversation with Harry and, by the time he and the other boys were told it was lights off, the two were well on their way to becoming friends. Kevin was a lot quieter, which Harry soon found lay more in Kevin's preference to slipping into the shadows than his being shy.

The morning of September the second came far too early for all of the returning students, but the first years all seemed as round eyed as the night before and eager to learn whatever magic skills they could. Harry walked with Stephen down to breakfast, laughing as his new friend told him about how the bird who had delivered his Hogwarts letter had flown straight into their kitchen window.

'I thought owls were smart!' Harry said, still giggling.

'Me too, but apparently not this one, it did the same thing trying to get out again,' Stephen agreed, laughing too. 'So are the stories of you being kidnapped by a werewolf and held hostage your entire life true?'

'Oh, definitely,' agreed Harry teasingly. 'He was so mean and horrible that he forced lots of presents on me at Christmas and on my birthdays and - get this - he even gave me pocket money every weekend! It's an outrage, I tell you!'

Stephen burst out laughing at that. 'So is the wolf not so bad?'

'He's my Dad,' Harry said shrugging. 'I'm sure my real Mum and Dad would be much happier that I'm living with one of their best friends than with people hate anything magic.'

'Yeah, but Sirius Black was one of their best friends, too,' Stephen said, his expression going dark. 'You know it was the Blacks that got my father into the Dark side in the first place?'

Harry shrugged again. 'Dad doesn't talk much about the Blacks.' This was true - why would Remus tell Harry about the Blacks when Sirius was right there to say it all for him? 'What about your parents?'

'What about them?' Stephen joked, nudging Harry in the side as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table. After receiving a light hearted glare from Harry, he relented. 'I'm a pureblood going back several generations. I think my great-great-great-great-great aunt is a muggle, or a squib or something.'

'Toff,' Harry teased, poking Stephen.

Stephen was about to retaliate, but before a poke war broke out a large steaming plate of bacon and scrambled eggs appeared between the boys and they started to help themselves to the food.

Now that Harry was more familiar with his surroundings and the compulsion charm had settled somewhat he took his time to regard the teachers. Some he recognised; Dumbledore, 'Minnie' McGonagall, Flitwick, but others he did not. There was a strange, turbaned man who looked as though he was terrified of everything around him, a thin, dark haired witch who had stunning good looks, and several other teachers, all with something slightly odd and outstanding about them.

But, the one that drew Harry's attention was a dark, foreboding looking man with sallow skin and a large, hooked nose. The man was dressed in voluminous black robes that disguised his figure completely and had glinting, coal black eyes. There was something about the man - his eyes, his nose, perhaps his greasy hair? - that reminded Harry of something, though he couldn't think what. He looked about the same age as his Dad and Pads, perhaps he had gone to Hogwarts with them? Harry shrugged to himself, he'd find out soon enough.

Professor Snape had seen Harry watching him and it had taken a great deal of effort not to outright glare at the boy then and there. The boy looked so much like James, in spite of having Lily's green eyes - that just made it worse. As the curious gaze so like Lily's had settled upon him Snape wanted to shout and yell at the universe for the way fates had played his life out. Lily had died becausehe had delivered half of a dodgy prophesy and then her son had disappeared for ten years, with no proof as to his safety.

And Snape - well. Due to a half-promise made in the midst of bereavement he was tied to a job he hated, teaching ungrateful brats with no hope of ever being allowed to quit. Not without Dumbledore letting the Ministry have their way with him. Oh no, a day never went by without Snape being reminded that without Dumbledore he'd be rotting away in prison like Rodolphus Lestrange and his insane wife, Bellatrix.

For a moment Snape's and Harry's eyes caught and something flashed between them - recognition? Harry frowned up at him and Snape scowled back, before both of them turned back to their meal. Harry may look like a carbon copy of his father, but the way he acted - it was so Lily. Snape watched as Harry started chatting with the boy sat next to him and felt a lump rise in his throat as Harry gestured whilst trying to explain something. Then the boy threw his head back and laughed and he was so like Lily. Snape looked away and glowered at his plate. He could not let this boy get to him. He had a job to do and a mask to wear. He could not fail this task.

Harry, now talking with Stephen and one of the older girls who was the other boy's sister, noted the expressions flitting across the strange man's face. At first when there eyes had met there was a mildly amused sort of irritation, then a melancholic longing, pain, until, finally, a stonily furious expression had settled in the black eyes that were now avoiding looking his way. Harry wondered if the man knew his parents.

'Hey, Charlotte,' Harry said. 'Who's they guy in black with an expression that could kill?'

'Oh,' Charlotte said, grinning. 'That's Snape. He's head of Slytherin and teaches Potions. He's the meanest, most horrible person you're likely to meet.'

'Snape?' Harry frowned. He'd heard the name enough times from Pads - Snivellus Snape he'd nicknamed the other boy, way back in their first year. Snape looked a little older than Pads and his Dad, but that must make him the same age. Harry groped around for the first name, he was sure his Dad had told him at some point… 'Severus,' he blurted out loud.

Charlotte nodded, a little puzzled. 'You know him?' she asked.

'No, well, not really. He went to school with my Mum, Dad and adopted Dad,' _and Pads_ he added silently. The Slytherins he'd shared the train ride with the day before knew, of course, that his 'dog' was Sirius Black, but they were unlikely to tell anyone - who'd believe it anyway?

'Really?' Charlotte said, fascinated. Stephen tried to hide a yawn behind his hand and Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

'Uh huh,' he said. 'Hey, Stephen, I bet you can't fit as much bacon in your mouth as I can!'

'Whatever, Harry,' Stephen said, but perked up at the change of subject. The two boys started stuffing their faces with bacon and Charlotte turned away in disgust. Once her back was turned Harry offered Stephen a high five.

'Girls are boring,' Stephen said.

Harry pulled a face. 'Agreed.'

Before too long the dishes disappeared from the tables and the heads of house made their way to their house tables to start handing out timetables. The first years were given their first, but told to wait so that one of the older students could lead them to the right room. The Ravenclaw first years all had their lessons together, but they always shared with one of the other houses. Harry was pleased to see that he shared History of Magic, Astrology and Charms with Slytherin house - at least that meant that at some point he'd be able to talk to Draco, Theo, Blaise and Pansy. They were good people, despite having Death Eater relations. Harry didn't understand why Dumbledore wanted him to hate them so much.

The very first lesson he had was one that he'd been looking forward to. Remus had said that his Dad James had been pretty good at everything, but that Lily had been very talented Potions and Charms. Though Harry was unsure what to think of Snape, that did not stop his excitement of starting a subject that his Mum had been so good at. Harry's first Charms lesson wasn't until Wednesday, but he didn't mind, there were plenty of other new lessons before then.

Pads and his Dad hadn't told him an awful lot about what magic he'd learn. He knew some basic spells for repairing things, turning lights on and off and summoning things - the kind of magic that was often accidental - but other than that he didn't know anymore than a Muggle born new to the world of magic. He'd seen his family performing spells, but without a wand to copy them mostly he hadn't paid them much attention.

The student - a prefect who hadn't told them his name - led the eleven first years deep down into the bowels of the castle, to the dungeons. Harry shivered slightly at the shift in temperature and gazed about him as wide eyed as the other first years. The student led them to a large, heavy door that did not look at all welcoming before running off. One of the other boys opened the door and they all filed in, instinctively all taking the seats closest to the back.

Moments later the Hufflepuff first years arrived as well and everyone had settled in with their books and supplies when their Potions Professor finally made an appearance. Harry had thought the man little scary even from across the Great Hall, but up close he was even more terrifying. His robes swirled out behind him and he seemed the very image of an evil wizard from a fairytale.

Professor Snape introduced himself and started registering the students, but he paused when he got to Harry's name.

'Ah yes,' he said softly, 'Harry Potter. Our new - _celebrity_.'

The room was filled with a deafening silence as the other students watched with bated breath to see what would happen. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His black eyes seemed to see every little detail; they were cold and empty and made Harry think of long, dark tunnels.

'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,' he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. 'As there is very little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate powers of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.'

More silence followed this little speech. Harry glanced across at his fellow first years and noticed that the majority of them looked either inspired by the speech, or were now eyeing their things with growing despair. A few just looked bored.

'Potter!' said Snape suddenly. 'What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

Harry gulped. Asphodel, asphodel… he was sure he'd read that somewhere in the library at Pennsylvania Cottage. Then, again the property had been owned by the Blacks and so most of the reading material was fairly dark. Over the years they'd spent there the original books, which couldn't be removed completely due to some sort of complicated spell, had been shoved up to the top shelves. Now, if only he could remember the link between asphodel and wormwood…

'No? Clearly fame isn't everything -'

'Wait!' Harry shot out before the man continued, blushing when he realised he'd interrupted him. He shook his head and lowered his gaze.

Snape sneered. 'No, do tell, Potter, what is so important that you felt you had the right to interrupt me?'

Harry gulped a little, but tried his best not to waver under the unforgiving gaze. 'I - I'm not sure, sir, but I know that asphodel and wormwood are both used the poison Lentomatar.'

The Professor froze. A strange look that Harry could not place flickered through his eyes, but a moment later and it was gone again. Snape did not say anything to confirm or deny what Harry had said, asking another question instead. 'Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?'

Harry swore silently. Why was Professor Snape picking on _him_? He must have got the answer wrong to the first one. Looking around, Harry noticed that his classmates seemed as clueless as he was. Stephen shrugged when their gazes met.

'I… is it a stone of some sort?' Harry guessed, crossing his fingers behind his back and hoping he wouldn't get yelled at too badly.

But, again, the Professor didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow at him. 'What is the difference, Potter between monkshood and wolfsbane?'

Finally! A question that Harry actually knew the answer to! Harry had read through his school books before he'd arrived, but he hadn't studied them intently, not thinking that he'd need to have all of the information in them memorised for his very first lesson. 'They're the same plant,' Harry informed the teacher, feeling a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but not letting it appear completely. 'It's also called aconite and it's very poisonous for werewolves.' Harry fondly remembered the yearly tromp through the lands surrounding his Dad and Pad's home to check the area was clear of wolfsbane. It grew well in Southern England and his Dad really didn't fancy being on bed rest for an entire month after eating the wrong plant whilst in his wolf form.

Snape stared at Harry for a moment longer before he span to march to the front of the class, his robes billowing out behind him. 'For your information, Potter,' the man spat, 'asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is not just any stone, but one taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. You are correct in saying that wolfsbane and monkshood are the same plant, also going by the name of aconite, but you failed to mention that it is poisonous to _all_ creatures, it is just particularly potent during the full moon.' He paused, glared at Harry a little more, before looking around at the rest of the class. 'Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?'

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, 'And I would like to see you after class, Potter.'

Groaning, Harry quickly noted down all of what Snape had said and ignored the pitying looks from Stephen and the others around him. Considering the temperament of the Potions Master Harry thought it very likely that the man would keep him late, so he missed the beginning of Transfiguration.

The rest of the lesson was fairly basic, but there were a few intriguing things that Harry promised himself he'd look up at some point. He was determined to do well in Potions for his Mum's sake. The bell rang far sooner than it had any right to and, after receiving the homework of writing up their notes from class, Harry packed up his things along with the rest of the class, though he didn't leave when the rest of them were dismissed.

'Professor?' Harry asked a little hesitantly, wandering over to the teacher's desk.

Snape whirled around the desk and sat in his chair, still looking very imposing, even when he was shorter than Harry. 'Potter,' he said.

'Um, you wanted to see me.'

'Tell me, Potter, do you know what the Lentomatar poison is?'

Harry stuttered out a, 'N-no.'

Sanpe raised an eyebrow, but it was not in surprise. 'Lento matar means _to kill slowly_ in Spanish. This poison acts much like undiluted hydrochloric acid. It burns through flesh and bones. When consumed it eats you away from the inside out, getting into your bloodstream so it feels like your blood is literally on fire.

'But, do you know what the worst part is? It attacks the heart and lungs last. It keeps the victim alive for as long as it possibly can, until they are begging in agony to die.'

Harry gulped again, but managed to whisper a question, 'How long?'

Snape sat back in his chair, only then realising that he'd been leaning towards the boy. 'It depends in the strength of will in the victim. On average? About five hours.'

Harry shivered, he couldn't imagine being in agony for five hours. He couldn't really imagine being in agony at all, really.

'You are correct in saying both wormwood and asphodel are used in the brewing of this poison, along with several other highly reactive and dangerous ingredients. Lentomatar is classified as Dark magic and has been illegal to brew and to be found in possession of since 1784.'

Harry wasn't surprised at hearing that, after he'd been told what the poison actually did to you.

Snape continued, 'For a first year - the precious boy-who-lived, no less - to not only know of this poison, but also to name two of the components it is made of, is highly suspect.'

'I - I'm sorry, sir,' Harry quickly apologised, wondering what the man wanted him to do about it.

Snape snorted. 'I couldn't care less, Potter. But I'd advise you not to tell the headmaster. I've no doubt word will get to him soon enough, but -'

'I'm not telling Dumbledore anything,' Harry snapped out, forgetting momentarily that Snape was in the man's employ.

Snape, however, though surprised by Harry's outburst, was also quite pleased with it. He held little doubt that Harry had been raised by Black and Remus and he only hoped that Remus had tempered some of Black's accusations against him. Snape caught himself at the thought - why would Remus care what his charge thought of 'Snivellus'? But it seemed, perhaps he'd managed to hammer some sense into Black's thick skull, if the boy's reaction to Dumbledore said anything.

'As I said,' Snape said, having carefully kept his mask in place. 'I do not care. I am merely saying that, for the sake of your public image,' he sneered and was surprised to see a similar expression of disgust on Harry's face, 'you should not tell anyone that you know about such a Dark poison. It would also be a good idea not to tell anyone of your distaste towards Dumbledore.'

Harry gazed at Snape for a moment - the man was certainly very strict, and unjustly so in some cases. But, despite his protests to the opposite, it seemed as though the man did care for Harry. At least little bit.

'Now get out of here,' the man snarled.

A _very_ little. Harry smiled at Snape in thanks, before scramming, racing down the corridors to catch up with his friends. He left behind him a Potions Master still blinking in surprise from the beaming smile.

Snape sighed. He'd felt it his duty to warn Harry, since the boy had clearly not known what the Lentomatar poison did. He'd sworn on Lily's name to protect the boy, even against Dumbledore, if needs be. But, he also had appearances to keep up and everyone, including Harry, had to think that Snape hated him.

Snape was still glaring at his desk when the next class came in. He hoped this one wouldn't leave to such confusing results as the last.

_

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_Good/Bad? Good, I hope. Is Snape too OOC? I know, one of the rules is that he and Harry must have an established hate/hate relationship, but I couldn't help but put this little scene in. They will hate each other by next chapter, I promise! Oh, and Harry is not going to suddenly be super-smart because he's in Ravenclaw, but because he knew from a young age his mum was good at potions, he's not going to let some greasy dungeon bat get in between him and Potions, lol! As for the Lentomatar potion - 'Lentor' means 'slow' and 'matar' means 'to kill' so it's _kinda_ 'to kill slowly'. You'll have to excuse me if I've made a mistake, I never learnt Spanish.__  
__The names of Stephen and the others in the same year as Harry are canon, though not necessarily originally Ravenclaw (check the HP Lexicon Ravenclaw Students for more info). I'm trying to stick to canon as much as possible. You'll notice I used some more text from the actual book in this chapter as well. This will happen less as the chapters go by, I swear!  
__I hope you enjoyed and please drop me a review!  
__Much love,  
__Cal  
__xxx_


	5. Of Letters and Quidditch

_For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!) Enjoy!_

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Chapter Four: Of Letters and Quidditch

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Dear Dad,

How are you? I've had the most fun in the past week than I have in probably my entire life! I've met loads of new people, including some of the teachers that you and Pads told me about. I got sorted into Ravenclaw, but I'm sure that you've read about that in the papers, already. I found it quite funny, really. No one's officially approached me about where I live yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. Dumbly keeps sending me odd looks.

The old man is as much a snoop as you told me. He hasn't talked to me yet, but on the first day he cast a compulsion charm on me to be mean to the Slytherins. I probably shouldn't say this in writing, in case this letter is intercepted, but oh well. On the train to Hogwarts I made four friends, who all ended up in Slytherin. I won't tell you all of their names, but Draco Malfoy is one of them. Don't tell Pads, he'll freak.

The Slytherins are OK, really. Draco's a bit stuck up, but so is Stephen, and he's in my house and my best friend already. Draco even talked to his house prefects about the compulsion charm and they're going to try and remove it for me this weekend.

The teachers are all quite cool, my head of house is Flitwick, who's tiny. Do you remember the story Pads told me about Dad James, Professor Flitwick's pile of books and the levitation lesson? Flitwick does, he told me not to do a repeat performance, please! McGonagall is quite scary, but she's alright. Did you know that one of your school mates is the Potions teacher, now? Well, 'mates'. I don't think he must have liked any of you very much. Professor Snape's very mean, particularly to me. And he never smiles. I think people should smile at least once a day and I don't think he smiled even once the entire last week.

Yes, Severus 'Snivellus' Snape. Only don't tell him I said that. I suppose, when he's not taking points away from me for no reason, he's an ok teacher. He's very, very, very, very, very strict, but he did tell me not to tell Dumbly that I knew about the Lentormatar poison. You know, the 'to kill slowly' poison from the big blue book that _says_ it's about flowers. You should probably move that to the top shelf with the others.

Well I've had a good week and made loads of friends and started learning all sorts of magic. I can't wait until next Wednesday when we have our first flying lesson. I've even got it with the Slytherins, so I can see how Draco does!

Love you lots,

Harry

X

PS Don't show this letter to Pads. Tell him I'll write him next weekend after my flying lesson. But say hi to him for me. - H

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Harry frowned furiously at his plate when the headmaster walked into the room, the compulsion charm once again forcing its way to the forefront of Harry's mind. Harry wasn't sure whether it was because Dumbledore knew that his spell was meeting resistance, or simply because he really wanted Harry to hate the Slytherins and vice versa, but it was making his only very new friendship with the Slytherins very strained. Pansy had quickly passed the message on to the others, so no one blamed Harry for his snappish attitude, but it made Harry feel guilty.

The spell did, however, seem to be getting the opposite to desired effects. Harry and the other's knowledge that they _shouldn't_ be friends, made them all that much more determined to remain that way. Helped along by the fact that Flitwick had ordered that they sit wherever they like, so long as it was a member of the other house and Binns, their History teacher, seemed about as blind and deaf as he was, well, _dead_, Harry, Draco, Theo, Pansy and Blaise often found themselves sitting next to or near each other without the chance of Dumbledore suspecting a friendship forming between them.

Draco caught Harry's eye from across the two house tables and mouthed to him; _'Outside the Charms classroom.'_

Knowing straight away that Draco was talking about them trying to remove the compulsion charm, Harry nodded, mouthing back, _'How long?'_

'_Half an hour,' _Draco answered, then returned to his conversation with Theo as though nothing had happened.

Harry chewed his lip a moment, trying to figure out an excuse to give Stephen. Sticking his hands in his pockets, his fingers brushed against the parchment of the letter he'd written to his Dad and an idea sprung immediately to mind.

'Hey, Stephen, I'm just going to run up to the owlery to post a letter to my Dad. I meant to do it earlier, but I forgot. I'll see you back at the common room, yeah?'

Stephen frowned and glanced at Harry's barely touched plate. 'You're not going to eat?' he asked.

Grinning, Harry replied, 'my Dad accidentally let slip where the kitchens are, I'll grab some food on my way down. I could bring you something?'

Stephen stared, round-eyed at Harry for a moment, before swatting him on the arm. 'What, and you just happened to forget to mention you knew where the kitchens are for the entire past week?'

'I'll take that as no then?' Harry teased, walking briskly out of the room.

'Hot chocolate!' Stephen shouted after him, then blushed when he realised that quite a few people in the hall were now looking at him with strange looks.

Harry's laughter floated back across to his friend, before the black-haired boy ducked out of the hall and raced up towards the owlery. It had been the perfect excuse, yes, but he wasn't meeting Draco for another twenty five minutes, still, and he did have a letter to send off to his Dad. But if he wanted to get up to the owlery and back down to the charms classroom in that time, he'd have to be quick, so he raced off.

In the end, Harry was only a minute late and was met by two, furiously scowling Slytherins. Draco's scowl wasn't too bad, as Harry had become quite used to it over the past week, but the other boy was rather scary.

He was a sixth year, at least, and was massive in a muscle-y, rather than fat, way. He had broad shoulders, a square jaw and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. His hair was a muddy brown and Harry tried not to think of the resemblances between it and a dead squirrel.

'Sorry I'm late,' Harry squeaked, causing Draco to sneer, though the flash of real amusement did not escape him.

'Potter,' Draco greeted, the older Slytherin not saying anything.

Harry scowled and, catching his breath, stood a little straighter. It didn't make him much taller and he was still shorter than the other two and Harry suddenly wondered whether this was really such a good idea.

'What am I doing here, Draco?' the older boy asked.

'Terence, I'm sure you know the Boy-Who-Lived? Potter, this is Terence Higgs. He's the prefect I talked to.'

Terence scowled darkly and Harry hmphed disbelievingly. 'You didn't actually tell him anything did you?' he accused.

'Well, no…' Draco said, a little awkwardly.

'I repeat,' Higgs said, 'what the fuck am I doing here?'

Harry decided that they'd beat around the bush for long enough, he wanted out of this spell. 'Dumbly has me under a compulsion charm to piss of Slytherins, pick fights with them and generally hate them. Since I'm friends with Draco I'd really rather not have the spell.'

Higgs raised an eyebrow. How did all Slytherins do that effortlessly? Harry thought in exasperation.

'You felt The Coot cast a compulsion charm on you?' he asked disbelievingly.

'What can I say? I'm a sensitive guy?' Harry joked half-heartedly.

'Stop fucking me around!' Higgs spat. 'I'm out of here, I'm not wasting anymore of my time on moronic firsties!'

'Terry, check him,' Draco said calmly.

'What?'

'Check him,' the blonde repeated. 'For a compulsion spell. Check him and, if there is one, get rid of it. If not, feel free to storm out of here.'

Higgs rolled his eyes but, for some reason Harry could not fathom, raised his wand and did as Draco said.

'Fucking Merlin,' the sixth year said quietly. 'He has as well. How did you bloody well sense that, Potty? It's near undetectable! I only found it because I was looking for it.'

'Well you feel the sudden urge to insult someone who'd happily grind your bones to make their bread, that's a bit of a hint,' Harry shot at the other boy sarcastically.

'Oh save it, Potty,' Draco said, catching on to the new nickname. 'Sarcasm doesn't suit you.'

Harry rolled his eyes, but stayed still and silent as Higgs pointed his wand at him again and muttered the counter spell. Suddenly a weight Harry hadn't been entirely aware he'd been carrying, lifted.

'I dunno how long it'll work for,' Higgs told him, turning and making for the door.

'Thanks!' Harry called.

'Yeah, whatever.'

Harry shot a look at Draco, that the other boy returned. They stared at one another for a long moment, neither of them blinking or saying anything when, without warning and for no reason, both of them started laughing.

* * *

By the second Thursday of term Harry was not the only one bouncing around in excitement at the prospect of getting up into the air. Unlike the other wizard-raised children, Harry had never flown an adult broom before and whilst he had the top of the range, children's safety broom, it really didn't compare. Pads had wanted to get him a proper broom for his tenth birthday, but his Dad had been adamant that Harry should not until he had proper flying lessons and a much safer environment than the wet lowlands that they lived in. And now, finally, he had that opportunity.

Stephen was laughing at his new friend's antics as they made their way out on to the quid ditch pitch after lunch.

'Calm down, Harry, it's just flying!'

'I know,' Harry replied, grinning. 'But I've not been on a proper broom before.'

Stephen rolled his eyes at this; Harry had said this at least ten times just that day. But, when the boys caught sight of the flying Professor - Madame Hooch - down at the pitch already, it wasn't Harry who was the first to break into run. Laughing, Harry raced after his friend, arriving at the pitch shortly after the Slytherins.

'Scar-face,' Draco greeted with a smirk.

'Blondie,' Harry returned, grinning at Draco's horror at the new nickname.

'Blondie?' the blonde asked incredulously. '_Blondie_?!' Draco turned to Blaise, who was watching the exchange emotionlessly. 'Did you hear that, Blaise? Hay stack hair, over there, called me _Blondie_.'

Blaise managed to keep a straight face for only a moment before a smile broke through. 'Well you _are_ blonde,' he pointed out.

Draco hmphed and turned his nose up into the air, ignoring his classmates.

Luckily for Harry, the Ravenclaws really didn't seem to care whether he was friends with Slytherins or not, which meant that for the few hours a week that they shared lessons, Draco and Harry didn't have to try too hard to hate each other. Stephen had, at first, been a little confused at Harry's friendship with Draco and the others, but he had soon grown used to it. As a pureblood with relations on the Dark side, Stephen understood completely the prejudice that the Slytherin kids had to face. However, being friends with Harry seemed to keep most of the wolves from his door.

The same could not be held true for Harry though. After a week and a half at school, Harry was still being followed by whispers and people still stopped to stare at him as he passed. It was quite disconcerting at first, but Harry had learnt to surround himself by the other Ravenclaw boys, who were quite happy to charge through the crowds, bowling those who stopped to snatch a look of the Boy-Who-Lived out of their way.

'OK boys, break it up,' Hooch called from the centre of the pitch, between two lines of broomsticks lying flat on the grass. 'Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.'

After quite a bit of shuffling around and pushing one another out of the way, the first years each found themselves with a broom to their right. Harry's was a bit old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles, but he couldn't complain.

'Stick out your right hand over your broom,' called Madame Hooch at the front, 'and say, "Up!",'

'UP!' everyone shouted.

Harry felt a surge of pride well up in his chest that his broom jumped into his hand at once, as it was one of the few that did. Standing opposite him, Draco's had also jumped up, and Harry could see that one of the girl's in his house - Lisa Turpin - broom had also jumped up for her. He grinned at her and she smiled back, wiping the momentary shock of the broom's responsiveness from her face.

Looking down the line, Harry smiled when he saw Stephen's frustration that the broom at his feet had decided it would halfway obey him, hovering at knee height. Kevin, on the other hand, seemed utterly nonchalant at the fact that his broom was merely rolling around on the grass a bit. His hand was shaking a bit though, and Harry wondered if perhaps the other boy was afraid of flying.

When everyone had either called their broom to them, or given up and picked it up for themselves, Madame Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Harry and Stephen each had to bite the inside of their cheeks to keep from laughing at Draco's horrified expression when he was told he'd been doing it wrong for years. Draco glared back at them, smiling smugly when Hooch corrected Stephen's grip, too.

'Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,' said Madame Hooch. 'Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle - three - two - one!'

The shrill whistle sounded and the first years all pushed off from the ground, the more experienced rising higher and faster than the others. Harry frowned when Hooch ordered them to go no higher than five feet - the child's broom went an extra two feet above that, he wanted to learn something new! But he was grinning again, when he saw matching expressions on the majority of the Slytherins' faces.

'Now back down,' Madame Hooch shouted, a moment later; 'Gently!' as a couple of people dropped straight down.

Harry was lowering himself as slowly as he could, wanting to spend more time in the air, when he caught sight of Kevin's face. The boy had gone very pale behind his slight tan, and he was gripping the broom like it was a lifeline.

'Down!' Hooch barked again, to those still hovering.

At the noise, however, Kevin startled, his hands wrenching the end of his broomstick upwards and shooting him straight up into the air.

'Come back, boy!' she shouted, but Kevin was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, impossibly saw him pale further, screw his eyes tight shut, slip sideways off the broom and -

Harry didn't even think. Forgetting that he'd never been above seven foot, forgetting that he'd never gone faster than ten miles an hour, forgetting that he didn't have a clue what he was doing. His eyes narrowed, shot up to try and greet Kevin and, seeing that if continued at that height he'd never catch the boy, steered down into a ridiculously sharp dive. He brought both hands off the broom and caught Kevin, instinctively bringing the broom up out of the dive, using the legs still wrapped around the end.

That was when reality came back. The students below them were in uproar, cheering and exclaiming, and Madame Hooch's shrill whistle was almost constant in the air. Struggling not to think about the fact that he couldn't properly control the broom without at least one hand, Harry tightened his legs around the tail and slowed the broom right down, lowering it the ground until it came to a stop with Harry kneeling in the grass, Kevin out cold in his arms.

'Uh, Madame Hooch?' Harry asked a little hopelessly.

Hooch walked over briskly, ordering the other students back to give Harry and Kevin air. When Harry caught sight of her face he saw that she was quite as pale as Kevin was.

'Injured at all?' she asked Harry quietly, so the others wouldn't over hear.

'No, I don't think so. But, I don't think he's too good with heights, he passed out,' said Harry, placing Kevin carefully on the ground.

'Or perhaps it was your flying that terrified him, hmm?' Madame Hooch accused with raised eyebrows, making Harry flush and look away abashedly. 'I think I shall be having words with Professor Flitwick, later.'

'I'm sorry, Madame, I didn't mean to disobey, I was just acting-'

'Instinctively,' Hooch finished for him, sighing and slowly levitating Kevin. 'Yes, I know. Therefore your house Quidditch Captain and head of house have the right to know about your flying ability, don't they?'

Harry nodded dumbly, not daring to hope that those might possibly mean what he hoped they did.

She turned to the rest of the class.

'None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say "Quidditch".' And Madame Hooch floated Kevin off the Quidditch Pitch and towards the castle, marching smartly behind him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than the rest of the first years burst forward and surrounded Harry.

'Oh my God!'

'Did you see that?'

'Bloody amazing!'

'No hands!'

'Saved from death!'

'Really is a saviour!'

Stephen, after trying and failing to drag Harry away from the eager students, leant forward and asked so no one else could hear, 'what did Hooch say that made you turn so pale?'

'She's talking to Flitwick later,' Harry explained softly, not missing Stephen and Draco's concerned expressions. Hiding a grin, he decided to let them imagine the worst for the moment. For, despite Hooch's vague mention of the Quidditch Captain, Harry didn't not for himself yet that he _wasn't_ going to be kicked out.

'Well, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, saviour, etcetera, etcetera, what do you have to say for yourself?' Pansy snapped, a very unamused expression on her face, and her hands balanced on her hips as she glowered at him.

Harry gulped, shooting sideways looks at Stephen and Draco, who were both edging away from him and out of Pansy-attack-range. 'Uh, maybe I should have been a foolish Gryffindor?'

'Your flying!' Pansy screeched. 'I don't care who your little boyfriend was, you are never to fly like that ever again, do you hear me? You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

Harry managed to glare back a little. 'One,' he said, 'he's not my boyfriend. Two, you're supposed to pretend to hate me. And Three, I wasn't thinking, I just acted. I wouldn't have been able to stop me doing what I did anymore than some Inuit living at the North Pole could!'

Pansy and Harry stood glaring at each other, but both burst out laughing when Stephen put in, hopelessly, 'What's an In-newt?'

Noticing that Pansy wasn't actually going to explode, the first years crowded forward again, all demanding to know how Harry knew to do what he had and could they teach them? They were all still crowded around him when Madame Hooch returned and the lesson continued, though a little more cautiously than it had before.

_

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AN: La la la, did you like it?

_Things: No, I don't know why Harry and Draco suddenly, randomly started laughing for no reason. It just happened. Surely that's happened to you before?  
__Quidditchy things: Yes, I know in the book it's the Gryffindors and the Slytherins who share a flying lesson, and on a Wednesday, but I changed that. Get over it. A Harry that is not a first year seeker is not a Harry. I know this is a Sevitus/Severitus (whatever) fic, but that doesn't mean that Harry can't fly. I'm not going to go into too much detail over quid ditch practices and matches and stuff, but I wanted to write about their flying lesson. Also, obviously, it's Kevin, rather than Neville that goes flying. But since Draco likes Harry, I can't do the whole Remembrall thing. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't know why I didn't just have the Ravenclaws having a flying lesson with the badgers. Sigh, never mind.  
__I think that's all I have to say, other than: Review! Pretty please?  
__Much love,  
__Cal  
__xxx_

_PS - Pansy is not based on me when I was eleven, at all. Nu-uh. Not one teeny, weeny bit._


	6. Of Kitchens and Dungeons

_For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!)_

_**NB: **There is some Sirius/Remus loving in this chapter. No details or anything (if I ever get the guts to write smut, in this fic it will be Snupin) but if the thought revolts you, you may want to skim read. Or note/review me for a chapter synopsis. Just a head's up._

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Chapter Five: Of Kitchens and Dungeons

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Remus Lupin had seen a lot of things in his fairly short life and he could honestly say that one thing that did not scare him was Sirius Black. Sirius could react badly, or well, or not react at all to good new, bad news, or no news at all. He was a volatile man, far more so than Remus, who was the one of the two who had more of an excuse.

But when Sirius received his letter from Harry two weeks after they had sent him off to Hogwarts, he scared Remus. Because when Sirius got _that_ look in his eyes and he grinned in just _that_ way something was either about to happen, or had recently happened, that was not good news for anyone. It was The Marauder Look. That alone, of course, could not scare Remus. It bothered him, certainly, but he'd seen it enough times over the years to become accustomed to it.

No, what scared him was the way Sirius whooped and cried out, 'Go Harry!'

Because that meant that, not two weeks into his very first year at Hogwarts, Harry had got himself into trouble.

Remus had received his own letter from his adoptive son the weekend before and remembered with next to no effort how it had felt to hear that Severus Snape - _his _Severus Snape - was now teaching Harry, a boy who was in everything but name his son. Except, he had to remember. Severus wasn't his. Never had been, never would be. He had promised himself long ago not to think of Seve- _Snape_ like that anymore and, despite momentary bouts of weakness, he had held true to that word.

Sometimes, in the middle of deep, moonless nights when Sirius had already fallen asleep, he wondered. Remus would lie on his back and listen to the heavy snore of his bed partner and he would wonder… did Severus snore? Did he, like Sirius, have to sleep without touching whoever was in bed with him? Did he have a side of the bed and, if so, was it the left or the right? Did he wake early in the morning? Did he ever get up to make himself breakfast and end up taking it back to bed with him? Did he sleep heavily or lightly? Did he ever wake from a nightmare and need to be held, and loved until he couldn't remember his own name, so that he could fall back to sleep again? Did he prefer to top or bottom?

And that was as far as his wondering always got. Because Remus could allow himself those guilty moments of wondering what Severus would be like when a relationship had reached an easy, comfortable stage, but he would not allow himself to think of the beginning of things. The beginning of a relationship where neither partner knew what to expect of the other and they danced, tiptoeing around one another. The experimenting and the discovering of one another' likes, dislikes and, most deliciously, the kinks they shared.

Remus had promised himself, long ago, that he would not think of Severus that way. He wouldn't wonder. And so, with no little effort, he locked that part of him up and did his very best not to ever think of the other man. Except, every once in a while, to take a very quick peek.

He loved Sirius, he honestly did. Even if it bothered him a bit that Sirius could not sleep whilst being touched, or that his snores still woke Remus, sometimes, he honestly loved the other man. And he knew that, in return, he, too, was loved. Which was more than he could ever hope to get from a man such as Severus. And, for a werewolf who had lost so much, but gained such faithful love, in both his partner and his son, the love Sirius gave him was enough.

Another chortling laugh came from the kitchen, bringing Remus from his reverie. Closing his eyes he asked Merlin silently for strength, then snapped his book shut and walked into the kitchen. There were a million possible scenarios running through his head, and none of them were good. He was worried about the attention Dumbledore was seemingly paying to Harry, and the implications that curiosity might have on them as a family.

'Remy!' Sirius said, head springing up and a guilty expression stealing across his face as he attempted to hide the letter behind his back.

Too late, Remus had snatched the letter up and made a break for the opposite end of the room, confident that all of the chairs and the table between him and Sirius would keep the other man busy for a moment whilst he read Harry's letter.

_Dear Pads, _Remus read,

_I know you won't be able to for very long, but try and keep __this information from Dad? Hi, by the way, to both of you, because I _know_ you'll nick this letter, Dad. _Remus chuckled as he imagined Harry rolling his eyes as he wrote this. The boy knew him far too well.

_I mentioned to Dad that Dumbly placed a mild compulsion spell on me, trying to hate Slytherins and, this weekend, one of the older students checked it for me and had it  
removed. Dumbly hasn't noticed anything, yet, but apparently the compulsion was so mild I shouldn't have been able to know it was a spell. I guess I only realised because I met Draco Malfoy on the train._

_Yes, Pads, Malfoy. And, before you freak out or anything, I didn't know who he was until we'd settled down. Besides, he's not so bad. A bit snooty, perhaps, but he's awesome on a broom._

_Talking about broomsticks… did Dad mention to you about my first flying lesson this Thursday? Nah, I didn't think so. It was absolutely amazing! One of the --_

Remus stopped reading for a moment as a loud crash came from behind him, followed by muffled curses. He took a peek over his shoulder to see Sirius entangled among several chairs, one of which looked suspiciously broken. Sighing, he continued reading.

_One of the boys lost control of his broom during the lesson and ended up shooting straight up into the air and then falling off his broom. But, you'll never believe! Because I was still on my broom I managed to swoop forward and catch him, steering the broom with no hands and everything! He wasn't hurt or anything, and nor am I, but I've suddenly become really popular - it's weird. I mean, before, everyone stared at me because I was the Boy-Who-Lived, now they stare at me because I saved Kevin's life! Well, maybe not his life, but you know._

_Of course, Madame Hooch (she's the Quidditch teacher and ref) went ballistic to start off with, but then she talked to Flitwick (my head of house) and, guess what?_

_I've become Ravenclaw's seeker!_

_The first first year on a house team in one hundred years, I might add._

_I can only imagine your expressions when you read that. If possible, can you snap a photo a send it to me? I'm sorry I missed it! Flying is amazing. Draco's really good, too, did I mention that?_

_Dad won't have told you, but one of my teachers is Severus Snape, your old classmate, or whatever. I told Dad that I kind of liked him - don't look at me like that, Pads! He was really strict, but warned me that some of the stuff that I know is quite dark magic. Well, forget I said anything. I hate him. HATE HIM. He's awful._

_He took ten points from Ravenclaw on Friday because I sneezed into my potion. Apparently human snot is a volatile ingredient. Merlin's balls to that, I say! It's not _my_ fault it's so damn cold in those bloody dungeons. And yes, Dad, I'm sorry for the language. Well, not really. Snape deserves that and more. The prat._

_Anyway, Pads, I hope you don't mind too much that I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor, but what with you and Dad Remy and Dad James and Mum, I think we needed a change from the norm. Besides, if I hadn't I wouldn't have saved Kevin or got on to the Quidditch team. So there._

_Lots of love, and wish Dad luck for the next full moon,_

_Harry_

_X_

Remus looked up to see Sirius hurtling forward and straight towards him and, the next thing he knew, he had his arms full of black-haired man and half a letter that had just made a ripping noise that made both of the men wince.

'Remy, you weren't supposed to read that!' Sirius exclaimed hotly, heated breath blowing out across Remus's neck.

Remus looked down at his partner, mild amusement making his eyes sparkle. 'Harry knew.'

'Of course he did, but that doesn't mean you were supposed to read it!'

The werewolf's eyes narrowed ever so slightly and a pink tongue darted out across lips that curved up into a smile when they saw the other man's eyes following their movement.

In all honesty Remus didn't know what to think about Harry's letter. He wasn't surprised about what the boy had written about Severus - in fact, it was the previous message that had shocked him, Harry saying he didn't mind Severus. Remus felt something that might have been a tiny spark of hope disappear. It would have been nice if Harry and Severus could have - not _liked_, but at least been able to stand one another. He supposed this made things easier, really. This way he'd never have to pretend he found it difficult to even be civil with the other man.

As for the thing with the flying lesson… well. It had Remus worried. He was happy for Harry and glad that his son was settling in so well, but that he had to draw so much more extra attention to himself… it wasn't good. The fact that Harry could fly didn't surprise Remus, James had been a spectacular flyer, for sure, but what no one really knew, was that Lily Evans, Harry's mother, could fly better than most people could breathe.

Lily had detested Quidditch, though, so it was only her closest friends that knew she could fly so well. It had been her greatest fear - or one of them - that someone would find out how well she could fly and make her part of the Quidditch team. Watching the game was fine by her, especially when she started crushing on James as well - all those thin shirts and sweat-soaked blokes! - but playing it herself was not to her taste at all.

Remus wondered idly if Lily would mind that Harry had become the youngest seeker in a century - somehow, he didn't think so. Lily would have rolled her eyes and told everyone (who knew) that at least all that talent of hers was finally going to a productive use. Then James would argue with her, saying it was his talent and they'd get into a mock fight, swotting at one another wooden spoons or a rolled up newspaper until they ended up kissing and Sirius would make a revolted face, gag, then kiss Remus, making him laugh.

But he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on those memories, either. He wouldn't - _couldn't_ - be miserable when there was a suddenly very horny looking Sirius hugging his legs and looking up at him with those great huge grey endearing eyes of his.

Remus casually plucked the other half of Harry's letter to Sirius from the other man's hand and levitated the two pieces of paper over to the other side of the kitchen. Sirius watched his actions with lusty, but confused eyes.

'I have a very strong urge to be shagged over the kitchen counter top-' Remus began explaining, chuckling evilly to himself as he watched Sirius' eyes widen, then darken even further. '-and I doubt Harry would like if his letter ended up in an… unfortunate place.'

Sirius rose slowly from his knees, where he had fallen before Remus, and slithered up his lover's body. 'You're not mad at Harry?' he asked softly against Remus's lips.

Remus's hands slipped around Sirius and moved down to cup his arse, squeezing gently. 'You really want to talk about Harry?' Remus asked with raised eyebrows.

Sirius shook his head and writhed slightly under Remus' talented fingers. Then he leant forward and kissed Remus full on the lips and all coherent conversation stopped for quite a while.

* * *

The green eyed boy glared defiantly up at him and it took all of Severus's training not to hex them out of the boy's head.

The first lesson Severus had allowed himself the brief hope that maybe, just maybe, Remus would have had a positive impact on the boy and he might be more like Lily than that stuck up prat of a father and godfather he had. But that hope had been short lived.

It was clear, of course, that the boy's heart was in the right place. Snape had had no reports of bullying by Potter and there was, of course, the already infamous first flying lesson. So like Potter to save some brat's neck before the fortnight was out. But the boy was stubborn as an ass and seemed to think that rules applied to everyone else, but not to him. There was also a slight tilt to his head that spoke of a certain level of self-confidence that disgusted Severus.

What was the very worst about the whole situation, though, was that Potter could literally do nothing wrong. The boy was impeccably polite and he had, without a doubt, inherited his mother's skill at Potions. He was silent when he was told to be quiet and silently helped those around him, but slyly enough for Severus not to catch him up. If Harry had allowed his neighbours' potion to fail, he could shout at the boy. If he caught him helping his neighbours, he could shout at him. Oh, Severus knew he was doing it, but he had no proof - could never catch him at it.

The only reason he was justifiably yelling at the Potter brat now was because he, like anyone who had any sense, had ignored the step in the book that said to add the powdered Graphorn after four stirs. It was five stirs, and Severus knew that and he was absolutely furious that _Potter_ could ignore the book and know it as well!

After yelling at the boy for a while on his incompetence and taking a rather gratifying ten points from Ravenclaw, Severus span on his heel and continued to haunt up and down the desks, tongue quick to berate the slightest mistake. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Potions lessons, compared to those of Gryffindor and Slytherin, were easy to teach and oversee. The Ravenclaws were all eager to achieve the best marks that they could and learn as much as they could possibly stuff into their heads and the Hufflepuffs worked vigilantly and resolutely to at least finish the lesson without getting a detention.

For a fleeting moment Severus wished that the Ravenclaws and Slytherins had a shared Potions lesson. The snakes become more ingenious each year in ways in which to spoil another house's potions. But the wish was gone as soon as it came - he had forgotten. The first year Slytherins, for some reason completely unfathomable to Severus, _liked_ Potter. Merlin! Even Draco liked the brat - his own godson!

The bell rang and Snape barked orders for the class to bottle and hand over their potions and about their homework - another glorious thing about Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff lessons - no complaints about the work load. As the last student rushed out of the classroom towards the Great Hall for lunch, Severus allowed himself to slump into his chair.

That was another thing he hated about Potter. Everyone liked him. _Everyone_. There wasn't a single other soul in the entire bloody castle that didn't like Harry bloody Potter. Even hardened children of Death Eaters liked the brat. Severus had heard remarkably quickly about the compulsion spell that The Coot had placed on Potter and it made him fume. It would have done Potter some good if he had his butt kicked once or twice by the Slytherins.

Instead he had to listen to Draco go on and on about Potter's amazing flying skills, had to listen whilst Terence Higgs had said the boy hadn't been that bad. And, for Severus to be able to discern that from a boy who said 'fuck' every other word was quite an accomplishment.

The only one who seemed remotely hostile towards Potter was the headmaster himself. And that thought gave Severus no comfort whatsoever. He knew what Dumbledore had wanted for the brat. The Coot had explained the night Lily died that he was going to send Potter to his mother's sister and brother-in-law. He'd had that horrible twinkle in his eye and Severus knew exactly what that meant.

He'd only met Petunia once after he had graduated from Hogwarts and it had not been a pleasant experience. It had taken all his will power not to kill the woman on the spot when she started calling her own sister a 'freak' and 'not worthy of being called family'. Severus had held little doubt that if Potter had gone to live with _her_ he would have been, if not physically, emotionally abused and neglected for his entire stay there. And then Dumbledore would take him in, earn his trust and confidence and mould him into the perfect boy soldier.

When Severus had understood that he knew that he would not have let it happen. James Potter's child and Sirius Black's godson or not, no child deserved that. He had been eternally glad to hear that Remus had 'kidnapped' Potter. At least, he had until he learnt that Sirius Black had also disappeared. Severus knew nothing about childcare and knew that he wouldn't have been able to stand looking into the face of a boy he'd raised as his own and see James's face, but he loathed the fact that Lily's betrayer was now taking care of her child.

Except he had been Lily's betrayer as well, hadn't he?

Severus hated Sirius Black with everything he had, but he also knew that Remus would not allow the Potter boy to come to harm. He often wondered whether the werewolf hadn't killed Sirius Black and buried him somewhere a long time ago for what he'd done to the Potters. But, then, Severus hadn't been blind to the relationship Remus and the mutt had shared, towards the end.

In fact, he had been painfully aware of it. He wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, but he had always been acutely aware of Remus, where he was, who he was with, what he was doing, _who_ he was doing. It had turned his stomach and frozen his heart to hear that Remus was dating that… that… _thing!_ No one would ever be good enough for _his_ Remus, especially not Black. The pathetic, new-girl-in-his-bed-every-month, dog that had, no doubt, crawled on hands and knees and begged Remus to have him.

The thought of the two of them had revolted him, but Severus knew that Black could never last with one person with very long. The longest relationship he'd ever had lasted two months and Severus had known he'd only have to wait it out. When Black dumped Remus, he could sweep in like a knight in shining armour, gather his Remus up into his arms and kiss it better again. Or perhaps something a little less foolishly Gryffindor.

So Severus had waited. One month, two months, on and on until, with horror, he realised that Remus and his pet mutt had reached the six month mark. That was when he gave up waiting. The other men had found true love, maybe. He wished that he could wish them well, but in his heart of hearts he was furious with Black for stealing away man that had… never been Severus's in the first place. His hope had disappeared along with his heart and Severus gave up on a foolish dream that he should have disposed of as soon as he realised who was in the dream with him.

Severus sighed and dug his fingers into the corners of his eyes. He didn't need this now. He had a sixth year double period immediately after lunch and it promised to be a disaster. Thinking about the man he loved and could never have would get him blown up.

_

* * *

_

AN: Sevvy needs to get laaaaaid. And its not gonna happen. Well, not for a while yet ;) Well, I hope you guys like this chapter because this is the closest you're gonna get to Severus/Remus action right now. This is a story about family, not just romance, so I need to really establish the hate between Sev and Harry before I can really get started on the good stuff. I hope the characters are still, well, in-character. Is Severus to romantic in that last bit? I'm not sure, its just cos Remus is the love of his life and I see Sev being the upstanding, chivalrous, gentlemanly sort when he gets the hots and starts dating someone. But maybe that's just me.

_Let me know what you think!  
__Much love,  
__Cal  
__xxx_

_PS, many thanks also to my anonymous reviewers, all messages are loved :0)_


	7. Of Trolls and Trouble

_For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!)_

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Chapter Six: Of Trolls and Trouble

* * *

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realised that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle would never be to him quite what the dark, secretive rooms of Pennsylvania Cottage were, but it had become almost a home away from home. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

Today was Hallowe'en and Harry was looking forwards to that afternoon with the usual, quiet excitement that a visit to his parents' graves always brought. Harry remembered very little of his parents, and what he did was just glimpses of two pairs of vibrant, laughing eyes, or the feeling of an ear pressed against a chest during speech. The snippets were bittersweet in a way that made Harry long to remember more, and wish he couldn't remember even this much.

Harry did not visit his parents' graves very frequently, a fact that made his Dad and Pads eternally grateful. Each of the three of them loved James and Lily Potter a great deal, but to visit their graves more than once a year raised suspicion among neighbours to the site and also made the chances of Remus or Sirius being seen and arrested.

But, once a year, every Hallowe'en, his Dad and Pads would draw him out of school for the afternoon and take him to visit his parents' graves. They'd take a single white Lily for his Mum and carve out a silly pumpkin face for his Dad James. The three of them explain to the dead couple what had happened since the last time they had visited and pay their respect before, normally, returning to Pennsylvania Cottage and making dinner together, sharing anecdotes and telling favourite stories.

This year, however, things were going to be slightly different. Harry was at Hogwarts and he had lessons all day Hallowe'en and there was no way that his Dad and Pads could simply pull him out of them, like they had done in previous years. Instead, they would wait until after Harry's last lesson, that ended at three, then he'd sneak out through one of the hidden passages into Hogsmeade where he'd meet his Dad and Pads and they'd apparate to Godric's Hollow. They would only have a couple of hours before Harry was missed, but none of them would break with this tradition for the world.

Their trip had been planned far in advance and, despite the nervous energy thrilling through Harry's veins, there was nothing particularly exceptional about the morning. Charms with the Gryffindors had been fun and it had given Harry the chance to catch up with Ron and the other Gryffindor boys, who had all become avid fans when they realised exactly how much Snape hated Harry and how Harry kept one-upping the git through getting his potions right.

After Charms they had double Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, then lunch and then, to Harry's great dismay, Potions. The rest of the lessons, he knew, would go fine, but something was telling him that this day - the anniversary of the death of his parents and one of the few times each year he had something he refused to not do - something would stop him. Sure enough, when Potions finally rolled round an obstruction, by the name of one Severus Snape.

Over lunch Harry had taken Stephen and Kevin aside and told them quietly that he was leaving the school for a couple of hours after his last lesson. Both boys had been watching Harry a little strangely throughout the day, all too aware of what had happened on that day ten years ago, and seemed relieved when he told them what he planned to do.

'Hey, no problem, Harry,' Stephen assured him. 'We'll get Ron and Draco to fight over some pointless thing again, or something, to distract the teachers, if they started asking.'

Harry rolled his eyes at he suggestion. Ron and Draco may both like him, but they hated each other - they wouldn't need provoking. But the thing that reassured him the most was Kevin's small smile of encouragement. Kevin never really said much and, just as he had at the beginning of term, he preferred to stick to the shadows, watching rather than partaking. Nonetheless, after his accident during Flying lessons and the way Harry had, within weeks, made everyone forget who he'd actually saved, Kevin had appointed himself Harry Potter's personal guard. Not so much physically, as he was just as small as Harry and wouldn't be able to fight off one of the other first years, let alone a full grown wizard, but he seemed to hear everything, know every rumour and ill intent towards Harry.

Kevin passed this information on to his friend and, in return, Harry gave him sanctuary. Harry was not bigheaded, living with a sensitive werewolf and someone bigheaded enough for three did that, but he knew that people watched him for something extraordinary. And so, if there was one more person following Harry around, who would notice? The safety Kevin could find in Harry's shadow was better than anything anyone else could offer and the friendship between the two of them grew.

Kevin was also, unfortunately, hopeless at Potions. Not quite as bad as the reported rumours of Neville Longbottom, but definitely the worst Ravenclaw first year and so, every Potions Lesson, Snape's scorning attention unfailingly turned to the boy at some point. Harry was usually able to whisper pointers to his friend without too much trouble, just as he did to help out others whose potions were failing badly, but that particular lesson he wasn't fast enough before Kevin's cauldron began to bubble over.

The potion didn't react explosively, but the scene that followed was like watching a train crash. One thing followed another until the dreadful result seemed inevitable. The cauldron bubbled over as Harry was returning from the stock cupboard with the next ingredient for his own potion. He didn't see the thick, viscous liquid puddle across the floor and so couldn't help but go flying when he trod in it.

The ingredient he was holding slipped from his hands and landed with a disconcerting 'plop' in someone's cauldron, causing that potion to fizz, then shrivel up into a husk in the bottom of the cauldron. Harry slipped and fell backwards, arms flailing in an attempt to stay upright and, in doing so, bashing another cauldron to the floor.

Snape watched the entire thing with black eyes that, for the first time, seemed delighted.

'Potter!' the Potions Master snapped. 'You have spoilt three people's potions, what do you have to say for yourself?'

Harry didn't glare up at his teacher, he couldn't risk further enraging Snape. 'I'm sorry sir,' he muttered.

'Sorry?' Snape snorted in the same tone of scornful delight. 'Sorry's not good enough, Potter. Since I do not wish to spoil my own evening you will serve detention beginning immediately after the lesson and for as long as it takes for you to brew three correct Forgetfulness Potions.'

Harry's head snapped up. 'But, sir!' he exclaimed in protestation. The potions would all take an hour and a half each to make, by which point the Hallowe'en feast would be over, never mind trying to sneak out before that to visit his parents' graves. Every year, without fail, and that… that… _git_ had to go and spoil it!

'Twenty points from Ravenclaw, Mr Potter, and it'll be another thirty if you dare answer me back again.'

Harry didn't answer to that. If he could do what he wished he'd answer Snape back and more; he'd tell him exactly how much he hated him. The Professor had already taken away the one thing that Harry had been looking forward to for weeks now and he'd feel no regret if he ended up with detention from then until the Christmas holidays, but he would not lose points for his house.

Snape sneered, 'What, nothing more to say, Potter?'

Harry raised his tussled black-haired head slowly and looked his teacher directly in the eye. Then, in a voice that was so perfectly polite and emotionless it sent chills down more than one back, 'If you'll excuse me sir, but I wish to return to my work.'

Severus sneered again, but stepped to the side as the eleven year old brushed past him. The boy was infuriating! Admittedly, he was in a fouler mood than usual due to today being the anniversary of Lily's death, but - oh. Lily's death. Lily and James' death - Harry's parents. He had thought it a little unusual that this was the time when Harry would protest to the punishments given, as Severus had given more detentions for less than that before, but now he understood.

There had been rumours that three figures, undistinguishable from any distance, and disappearing when you got to close, would visit the graves of James and Lily Potter every Hallowe'en. Two adults and a child. Remus, Black and Potter. No doubt the three of them had had something similar planned for this day and Snape had ruined it for them. For a tiny sliver of a moment Snape regretted his actions, but then that feeling was gone and replaced with a self-satisfied smugness. For he, as ruled by The Old Coot, had never been allowed to see Lily's graves, nor pay his respects, so why should the Potter brat, werewolf and betrayer be allowed to?

Surprisingly the Potter brat was able to finish his own Potion, that Severus was sure the first year would not be able to save from ruin, but he gave no indication of his surprise, nor of the fact that, strictly speaking, Potter now only had two replacement potions left to make. When the bell rang Harry's classmates all filtered out, the one whose potion had been the beginning of all this grief in the first place, not saying anything, but touching Potter's shoulder briefly. Severus watched the movement with fascination, and was surprised to see a calculating gleam in the green eyes so like Lily's. Never, though, had Severus seen Lily's eyes regard Potions ingredients with such silent determination that turned a little victorious as countless unknown questions were answered behind the boy's eyes.

Then he watched in silent and masked astonishment as the eleven year old set up two cauldrons at the same time, retrieving the right amount of ingredients for two potions from his own and the dungeon supplies. Potter set to cutting and dicing with the same enthusiasm and gracefulness the boy only ever seemed to have when in the air. On Terra Firma the brat couldn't go a day without tripping over something, but in the air he had a confident elegance that, amazingly, seemed to also come to light when he began Potions.

But the boy had never been this firmly self confident in class, why would he begin now?

Harry didn't glance up often to see the teacher's expression, not really having the time with two cauldrons going at once, but when he did he almost laughed aloud to see the blatant look of astonishment that, though hidden in the man's expression, was clear in his obsidian eyes. He hadn't been sure, of course, whether or no it would be possible to do two of the Potions at once, but he had staggered the process by three minutes, allowing him to give each the time and care it needed.

He was furious with the man for stopping him going to see his parents' graves, but there was no point crying over spilt milk and there was still the chance that, if he could get the third potion started during the brewing time of the first two, he would still have a couple of minutes at the gravesite.

Then, as the first forty minutes drew to a close and the potions were prepared to stew for the next forty minutes, a foolish idea filled his head. It was stupid. Ridiculous. Pointless. He only needed to make three potions… but Harry was curious. He knew that he could make two at once; once he took the potions off the stewing stage, he only had to mix in a pinch of powdered moonstone and leave it to cool. But… could he… was it possible… three?

After all, he just had to ensure that one of the three potions was completed successfully, not all of them. It seemed like a disaster in the making, but, well, his parents had left him enough money to rebuild the dungeons if things went _that_ wrong and the worst Snape could do was to take more house points and give him more detentions. So, with a determined look in his eye and refusing to look at the teacher who was now hunched over essays, scribbling away furiously in red ink, Harry hopped off the counter stool and set up another three cauldrons.

'Potter!' Snape snapped. 'What do you think you're doing?'

'Brewing the potions you asked for, sir,' Harry replied with the same, complete politeness in his tone, though it was spoilt slightly with the defiant look in his eyes.

'You really think you have the skill to brew three Forgetfulness potions at once, boy?'

Harry grinned widely, beaming. 'Nope,' he said, readily. 'But I'm curious to see if it's possible and you've already spoilt my day, so what have I to lose?'

Politeness was forgotten, as were the essays Snape had been marking as Harry hurried to the cupboard and began preparing the ingredients that were needed first. The first two potions were timely pulled off the boil, the moonstone powder added and left to cool as Harry worked around the other three potions, staggered from each other, this time by only two minutes. It made the schedule tighter, but it meant that he never had three things to do at once.

By the time the next three potions were pushed aside to boil Harry's face and robes were covered with splatters of potion and there was a suspicious looking burn on one of his sleeves. Harry quickly bottled the two first potions and placed them silently on Snape's desk, before returning to his work station and starting to clear away the mess he'd made in the past hour and a half. By the time the next potion was ready the moonstone was ready and waiting and the work top was cleaner than it probably had been in years.

The moonstone was added to each, along with a final stir and the potions were left to cool as Harry replaced the sealer on top of the powder and taking it back to the potions cupboard. Then the final potions were taken bottled and labelled, the cauldrons scoured and replaced in the cupboard. Harry placed the three finished potions on Snape's desk then stood back, waiting for the man's judgement.

Severus had devoted the boy his entire attention from the moment he had started the foolish endeavour of doing three potions simultaneously. Severus, himself, could of course create three of the Forgetfulness potions at once, if he wished, but he did it without getting splattered all over by dubious liquids. Still, for a first year to be able to complete the task with even two done to the level of success of the Potter boy… he would not let it distract him. The first two potions had been done to an exceptional standard, as all of Potter's previous potions had, though Snape had never said so. The last three, on the other hand, though good for any other first year, were far below Potter's usual standard. Severus smiled grimly within his head.

'Potter,' he finally addressed the boy. 'What do you call these?' he asked, holding up the three vials most recently placed on his desk.

'I know they aren't perfect, sir, but -'

'Shut up!' Severus snapped. 'Can you really not even follow simple instructions?'

Harry frowned up at his Potions Professor. What now? He wondered.

'I asked for three completed Potions, not five. Do you really lack that much self-confidence that you have to over compensate?'

Harry stayed silent as Snape snarled down at him.

'Ten points from Ravenclaw,' the man bit out. 'And get out of here before I double that!'

'Sir,' Harry said, barely louder than the slight squeak of the door as he ducked his head, pulled it open, and fled down the corridor, leaving the Potions Master with an entirely unsatisfactory feeling in his gut.

Because of the overlap, making the potions had only taken two hours and Harry still had a good half an hour before dinner and, even then, he doubted he'd be missed by anyone other than Snape, since everyone thought him in detention.

Rushing up to the Ravenclaw common room he grabbed the mobile phone his Dad and Pads had given him a long time ago to contact them. Then, hurriedly avoiding anyone he ran into, made his way out to the grounds to the Whomping Willow and then through the passageway to the Shrieking Shack. Finally, he'd made it there and out of the range of Hogwarts, making it possible to use muggle electric devices again.

'Dad? Yeah, I'm here,' Harry said, relief flooding his face as the next moment his Dad and Pads popped into existence to either side of him and enveloped him in a tight hug.

* * *

The half an hour spent at his parents graves, clutching tightly at his Dad and Pads's hands, hadn't been nearly long enough to tell his parents how he'd been and what he'd been up to, but it had been better than not being able to go. All too soon, he'd been pulled away after pressing a kiss to the cold, unyielding stone.

'See you next year Mum, Dad. I love you,' Harry whispered, before allowing his other Dad to pull him into a hug.

'Come on, pup, you need to get back before they miss you,' his Dad said quietly.

Harry sniffed slightly and buried his face in his Dad's coat front, revelling in the feeling as Pads hugged him too, from behind. 'I love you both too,' he whispered.

'Shush,' Pads said. 'We know. We know and love you too. Now come on,' he said and suddenly the three of them were back at the Shrieking Shack.

'You're happier, Pads,' Harry commented just before he said goodbye.

'You're happy, as is Remus. If you and Remus are happy, I'm happy.'

And it was the truth - things were that simple for Pads. Harry hugged him again, and his Dad again. 'I'll see you at Christmas,' he told them, then disappeared along the passageway up to the school.

Hiding the mobile in the folds of his uniform, Harry made his way straight to the Great Hall. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry settled down quickly between Stephen and Kevin, hastily telling them in whispers that he'd explain what had happened later. He'd just helped himself to a jacket potato when Professor Quirrell, their Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, came sprinting into the Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped, 'Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know.'

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

In the uproar that ensued Harry couldn't help but turn to Stephen and Kevin and ask in a voice that no one else could hear, 'What happened to his stutter?'

It took a moment for Dumbledore to regain control, ordering the prefects to take the first years back to the common rooms and all of the teachers to go with him to the dungeons.

'What about Quirrell?' Stephen asked as they were herded out of the Hall.

Harry shrugged. 'Dumbledore's an idiot.'

'Too right!' Stephen chortled. 'Do you want to go looking for it ourselves?'

Harry considered for a moment, before he nodded enthusiastically. 'Kev? You going to come troll baiting with us?'

The other boy considered for a moment, then shook his head. The others understood, it wasn't about fear, but about the chance of drawing attention to himself. Harry nodded and Stephen slapped his back. 'Keep your ears open, yeah?' the pureblood asked.

'When haven't I?' Kevin retorted sharply, a grin blunting the sharpness of his words.

Stephen and Harry grinned back before the two boys slipped easily away and headed down towards the dungeons.

What they were quite thinking, neither boy really knew, but once the boys bumped into Ron and Dean, who were looking for Hermione, they changed course to get the bushy haired girl to safety before continuing their mission. The troll had, of course, found Hermione first and the situation had escalated from there.

The four boys had encircled the troll, who had spun around, trying to hit all of them at once, when Hermione had reminded Ron of the levitation spell they'd been working on in charms. With a swish and a flick the troll's club was ripped out of his hands and landing with a nasty clunk on his head. The troll toppled over, almost hitting Harry on its way down.

'Aw, Ron,' Stephen whined. 'What'd you have to go and do that for, I was having fun!'

Ron blushed and shrugged, though his gaze wandered back over to Hermione, who was getting unsteadily to her feet. Stephen and Harry shared a knowing grin - it would have been the hot-headed redhead who was the reason why Hermione was crying in the bathroom in the first place. Dean just rolled his eyes.

'Do you think it's dead?' Dean asked.

Harry kicked it and the troll groaned, though it did not wake. 'No,' he answered. 'Now get a move on, everyone. If we want to get out of here before the teachers come, we need to hurry.'

Nodding in agreement the Gryffindors bid Harry and Stephen a hasty goodbye and the first years all separated, quickly disappearing back to their common rooms. Once they got back, though, Harry and Stephen were greeted by a very pale Kevin.

'Quirrell,' the boy said. 'and Snape. There's a three headed dog on the third floor, where we're not supposed to go. They were both trying to get past it.'

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AN: Good mark? Bad mark? Question mark? I'm not sure whether I've made Harry too smart in this. It's just, what with this being AU and him having two smart Potions-people as parents, and him wanting to do potions, rather than loathing it, I thought maybe I could make him smart at it. I never meant to make him super-smart. I also hope you don't mind the troll bit being a bit rushed, it's just that you already know basically what happens from the book. Only this time Dean and Stephen are there as well and they don't get caught by the teachers. I also realise that I'm doing this slightly out of order, but hey, it's all good stuff… right?

_Leave me a review, pretty please?_

_Much love,  
__Cal  
__xxx_


	8. Of Presence and Presents

_For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!)  
__**NB:**more Sirius/Remus action towards the end of this chapter (nothing explicit) and more Dumbly bashing. It's all good stuff._

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Chapter Seven: Of Presence and Presents

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Harry was curled up tightly in his seat, gazing out across the countryside that sped past outside. Stephen, Michael Corner, Lisa Turpin and Su Li - other Ravenclaw first years - were also in the same compartment and Harry was listening with amusement as the group animatedly debated about whether or not Quidditch was a worthy pastime. Michael and Lisa were both arguing for it, Su fervently against it and Stephen didn't seem to be taking a side, adding in the odd comment here and there to support both sides.

It was hard to believe that it was the Christmas holidays already. Harry had already played his first Quidditch match and had, to his great embarrassment, caught the snitch not five minutes into the game. His broom had started to do something funny as he headed back down, but he had touched down before he had long enough to wonder what it was. Probably just nervous energy. His team had been overjoyed, but requested that if he spotted the snitch that soon in to their next game, could he please distract the other seeker and let the team actually have a chance to play? Harry had blushed a bright red and agreed readily.

Lessons had been normal and Snape's behaviour towards Harry had not changed. In many ways this was a relief that it was not getting harsher, in others… Harry could do nothing wrong in Snape's class if he wanted to survive without detentions and point loss. His potions continued to be of an extraordinary standard and his marks continued to be low Ps or even, occasionally, Ds. His written work wasn't up to the same level, but in that respect Snape's highly critical marking helped.

And then, of course, there was the three headed dog.

Harry knew very little about it, other than the fact it was huge, vicious and guarding something Professors Snape and Quirrell wanted to get their hands on. Kevin had stayed behind after the students had been evacuated up to their common rooms that Hallowe'en and had seen Snape slip away, followed by Quirrell's waking up, suddenly perfectly unaffected by the troll attack. He had followed the teachers, had seen the dog and had seen them bump into each other just outside the door leading to the three headed dog.

Kevin had not been able to tell them much, but the very brief conversation between Snape and Quirrell that he had overheard revealed the elusive object that everyone seemed so keen to get a hold of. Among the threats and the stutters Kevin made out the words 'Philosopher's Stone'.

And so he had passed the message on to Harry and Stephen. The three boys had searched for information on the Stone, but couldn't find anything in the library. As the Christmas Holidays drew ever closer they felt their hope waning, until Harry remembered the library back at home. Despite the risks involved in returning to his Dad and Pads over the holidays, they had decided it should be Harry's choice, regardless. A quickly penned letter and it was arranged.

Stephen was also returning to his home over the holidays and had agreed to see if he could find anything about the Stone as well. Kevin was staying at the school and, when Harry had heard that Ron and Dean were also staying, he'd made the Gryffindor boys promise to keep Kevin company, if he needed it. And that was what had led to Harry staring out of the window, listening to his fellow Ravenclaws argue companionably about Quidditch.

It was dark by the time the train arrived back in London, which made Harry a little nervous about his journey home. He'd only brought a small rucksack of things with him, as most of his casual clothes were still at Pennsylvania Cottage, but as when he had been travelling to school, there was no one at the station with him.

Harry had waved goodbye to his friends and hugged Stephen before he made his way over to the portal back into real-space and the Muggle world. When he stepped through the barrier he felt a tingle of magic wash over him, stronger than how it had felt going the other way. It was with no little trepidation that he had closed his eyes to try and find out just whose magic it was. The slight tingle was gone as soon as it came, but it left the same foul taste on his mouth as the Compulsion charm, back at the beginning of term had.

Cussing quietly Harry span and walked back through the barrier, searching the thinning crowds desperately for someone who he trusted enough to help. When he couldn't see Terence Higgs anywhere, nor any of the other sixth and seventh year Slytherin and Ravenclaws that he recognised, Harry swore again. A flash of bright blonde hair caught his eye and he winced. Draco.

Draco was in his own year and wouldn't be able to remove whatever spell it was himself, but his parents had probably both come to pick him up and surely they would know? Harry had to make a decision. Risk exposing the whereabouts of his home and his family or give his trust to a family who had some of the highest ranking Voldemort supporters? Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes, half thankful and half disappointed that the blondes were still there.

Wasting no time, Harry raced over to them. 'Draco!' he called.

The youngest of the three blondes turned and raised an imperious eyebrow at him, a look that matched exactly that of the man who Harry assumed to be Draco's father.

'Um,' Harry said when he came to a halt before them, unsure of what to say. 'Er,' he tried again.

Draco rolled his eyes. 'What, scarface?' he asked.

'Dumbledore,' Harry explained simply with a shrug of his shoulders. The elder Malfoys just looked confused, but concern immediately flashed across Draco's features.

'What's that fool gone and done now?' he demanded to know.

Harry shrugged again. 'I'm not entirely sure, but I'm pretty certain it's a tracking charm. I dunno when he placed it, but it was activated when I crossed the barrier.'

'I thought I saw you leave,' Draco said absently, frowning and staring just past Harry's left shoulder.

Draco's father cleared his throat. 'Draco?' he asked, the disapproval in his tone immediately reminding his son of his manners.

'Of course. Mama, Papa, allow me to introduce to you Harry James Potter. Harry, my parents, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.'

Remembering what little Sirius had told him of pureblood tradition Harry bowed at the waist to first Narcissa, then Lucius. 'My pleasure,' he said.

The Malfoys, as higher ranking purebloods, merely nodded back.

'Now, what is it that seems to be the problem?' Narcissa probed once the niceties were dealt with.

Harry cast a sideways glance at Draco, but his friend didn't seem to be anymore certain about the situation than Harry. 'I…' he trailed off, bit his lip, took a deep breath and tried again. 'As you no doubt know, I was _kidnapped_ from my relatives shortly after I first arrived in their _care_.' The sarcasm in Harry's voice did not escape the older Malfoys' attention. 'The rumours are true, it was indeed Remus Lupin who has taken care of me, with the help of Sirius Black.'

Harry waited for the expected intake of breath and the surprise to cross their features, but Lord and Lady Malfoy merely nodded, as though they had expected nothing less.

'The rumours of Black's betrayal?' Lucius Malfoy asked with mild curiosity.

Harry only hesitated a moment before saying, 'Lies. He and Dad - Remus - are and were lovers. It wasn't possible for him to have betrayed my parents.'

'Oh?' Again, that infuriating single eyebrow rose.

The boy hero regarded Lord Malfoy through slightly narrowed eyes. 'They were in Spain, probably at it like rabbits that night. They only heard what happened when they returned to England the next day. Dad restrained P- _Siri_ - from doing anything rash and went to rescue me.' Harry carefully avoided calling his godfather the nickname he always used - it would not do for these people, who were essentially his enemy, to know his 'codename'.

'You live at Pennsylvania Cottage,' Narcissa said. She was softly spoken and her voice soothed Harry's fears a little.

Harry tipped his head towards Lady Malfoy, but didn't say anything, what she had said was a statement of fact, not a question.

Narcissa eyed the eleven year old curiously. 'And what are your attentions towards my son?' she asked.

Sharing a look with Draco for his permission, Harry placed an arm around the young blonde's waist and looked as sincerely as he could up at Narcissa. 'Well, ma'am, I would like your permission to marry him.'

The two boys looked up at Draco's parents for a long moment, before their masks cracked and laughter bubbled forth - the elder Malfoys' expressions! Narcissa had been beyond shocked and Lucius had looked as though he were about to explode. At their laughter, Narcissa smirked at their antics, though her husband continued to look furious.

'Purely platonic,' Harry informed Narcissa, grinning now. 'He was one of the first other magic kids I've met who's the same age as me.'

Narcissa nodded and smiled. 'Well, then, it's nice to meet you. Now let's see what I can do about that tracking spell.'

Harry shot Draco a surprised look, but his friend just smirked back as Narcissa retrieved her wand, a purple spell shooting from its tip and engulfing Harry. The eleven year old let out a bark of surprise, but a moment later the light was gone. Narcissa held, in her hand, an ugly grey rock that seemed to appear darker in sunlight, rather than lighter. She huffed.

'Well I never,' she said, looking very affronted. 'How crude.'

'What is it?' Harry questioned, his love of knowledge unspoilt.

Narcissa held it up and turned it slowly, inspecting it. 'This is the tracking spell Dumbledore put on you. It's impossible to place a tracking spell on someone who is opposed to the idea, so when tracking a resistant person, the spell is placed on something they are known to keep with them all the time. What Dumbledore did was take a piece of rock, place a dormant tracking spell on it, ground it up and has slowly been feeding it to you.'

'How?' Harry gasped out, horrified.

'The House Elves that prepare your meals would have been directed what to do. My guess is you've been eating this in tiny amounts since the beginning of school. Do you see these little pock marks?' Narcissa offered the strange stone to the boys, who took it and examined it. 'That's where you skipped a meal, or you didn't like whichever food was spiked with it.'

Harry handed the stone to Draco and clenched his fists tightly, the nails digging into his skin. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as he had earlier, but this time to keep anger, rather than fear down. He knew from his childhood that his temper tantrums usually ended up in someone getting hurt, or glass shattering, so he tried his hardest to calm down. When he was in control once more he thought it safe to open his eyes.

The Malfoys were all watching Harry warily. They had felt the slight prickle of the brunette's magic against their skin and were given the distinct impression that this was the least Harry could do. As he calmed down they became more aware of how his magic was normally; still reaching out and touching them, but in such a soothing, gentle manner that it was impossible to know it was there without knowing exactly what you were looking for.

'Sorry,' Harry muttered.

Lucius stepped forward and gazed at Harry straight in the eye, rather than down his nose as he had been earlier. 'You would be wise,' he said, 'To keep your nose out of trouble. If trouble comes looking for you, know that you have friends.'

Harry raised his face and smiled scornfully. 'I hate Dumbledore, Mr Malfoy. But if you think for one moment that I would side with the monster that killed my parents on cold blood, you've got another think coming.'

'But My Lord isn't here, is he?' the blonde shot back.

'Yet,' Harry replied confidently, believing as he always had that it could not be so easy to kill Voldemort, not when there was no body left behind.

Harry took the tracking-spell-come-stone from Draco with a nod of thanks to both him and his mother and turned to leave the platform again.

'What are you going to do with it?' Draco called out after him.

Harry turned and, with a sly grin, said, 'I'm going to Diagon Alley to find an owl. I have the perfect Christmas present for our Headmaster. Have a good holiday, Draco.' Then he waved and slid through the portal.

'I like him,' Narcissa told Draco, placing an arm around her son's shoulders.

Mother and son shared a knowing smirk at the impassive expression on Lucius' face. He'd never say, but so did he.

* * *

Harry slouched into the large armchair, almost completely dwarfed by the thick, soft cushions and looking contentedly replete. His Dad was stretched out on the sofa next to him, with a snoozing dog, that looked suspiciously like a Grim, drooling all over him. It was Christmas Eve and the three of them were relaxing in the lounge after a very filling dinner - of Chinese Take Away. For as long as Harry could remember, he, Pads and his Dad had spent Christmas Eve in bed until midday, then spending the rest of the day playing games in front of the fire and slowly nibbling their way through first sandwiches and then the Chinese food.

As much as it was called Pennsylvania _Cottage_, a more appropriate name would be 'mansion'. Well, not quite, but a fairly large house at any rate. There was a Cellar below the house, a wall separating the fully stocked Potions lab from the room that stored all the usual sentimental junk. The ground floor held the kitchen, a large dining room and the main living room. It also contained the first level of the library, that stretched up another story, with wide arching staircases and a curvaceous balcony leading up to the second level, that was on the same floor as the bedrooms (all six of them), the unused nursery and a smaller living room that was where Harry, his Dad and Pads were currently curled up in front of the fire. Above them was the attic and scattered throughout the building, numerous toilets and bathrooms.

The Grim morphed slowly into Sirius, as the animagus slowly woke up. Harry yawned loudly and stretched his feet closer to the fire, watching the two men on the sofa with amusement. Sirius was slowly remembering where he was and, as he did, a wicked gleam was coming into his eyes. He wriggled on top of Remus a little more than necessary and chuckled at the grumble that made Remus' chest vibrate.

Harry closed his eyes as the two men who were as good as his parents kissed one another apparently without the intention to stop. He coughed loudly, but Pads only growled and deepened the kiss with his dad.

'OK, well I'm going to bed,' Harry told the mantelpiece, back firmly turned. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

He didn't really expect a reply, and didn't really count the moan that one of them emitted as a proper response. Shuddering at the thought of what he knew the two of them would be up to later, he raced down the corridor and changed quickly before burrowing himself under the duvet.

Once Harry had left, Sirius quickly rolled off Remus, sharing a knowing look as they each went to their own hidden place and retrieved the presents they were giving. They could never give much, because they were wanted 'criminals', but that really didn't matter. It was the thought that counted, and a lot of thought always went into the gifts. Biting their lips to keep from laughing out loud they hurried about their tasks, setting the neatly and not-so-neatly wrapped presents under the large, glistening Christmas tree, before turning hungrily towards one another and kissing passionately again.

'You know,' Remus said in a whispering laugh, 'That really was a very dirty trick of you to play.'

Sirius nibbled on the other man's earlobe, replying just as softly, 'Oh, but you like it when I _play dirty_.'

'I think you traumatised Harry,' Remus continued, ignoring the shiver that went through him as Sirius' sexy voice did interesting things to very interested parts of his body.

It had been hard on the two men to hear that Harry had had to rely on the help of the _Malfoys_, of all people, but the relief of having their boy back in their arms was overwhelming and even Sirius grudgingly admitted that, yes, he was thankful his cousin had helped him. This had led to several more questions, of course, about Harry's friendship with Draco. He'd been reluctant at first, but with the support of Remus Harry told Sirius everything that had happened so far - including the escapade with the troll, though he said nothing about the Cerberus Kevin had seen.

Remus and Sirius only realised after Harry had headed up to bed that first night that they had spent more time scolding one another for their reactions, than Harry for doing those things in the first place. They'd found it highly amusing in private, though they never told Harry that.

'The bedroom or the rug?' Remus asked roughly, voice rasping slightly.

Sirius honestly didn't care, but the couple started heading towards the bedroom anyway, the half-hearted effort finishing somewhere in between Remus' two suggestions.

In the midst of passion, neither man noticed the familiar phoenix that soared through their home and deposited an even more familiar cloak upon Harry's bed. In fact, no one would notice the cloak for another eight and a half hours, after Sirius and Remus finally made it to their room and the small family woke on Christmas morning.

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_A/N: Oops, sorry for the longer than usual wait on this one, I know, I said that I'd be trying to make the chapters more frequent… my bad? I'm feeling seriously sorry for Severus at the moment. Remy may not have his _one trooo love_, but he still has sexy Sirius. As for that trick Siri and Remy played on Harry - you can't tell me you haven't at least considered doing something similar to get someone to go away?_

_I hope the other Malfoys are in character enough for you? Let me know what you think!  
__Much love,  
__Cal  
__xxx_


	9. Of Holidays and Lemons

For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!)

**NB: **In previous chapters I've said that the Ravenclaw boys are split three/three into two dorms. I only remembered that after writing the first section of this chapter. After struggling through nigh on a month's writer's block I'm not going to risk rewriting it. I apologise for the discrepency.

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Chapter Eight: Of Holidays and Lemons

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The rest of the holiday passed with cautious swiftness, Remus, Sirius and Harry's enjoyment of the celebrations dulled somewhat by the question of how much Dumbledore knew. The note that had come attached to the Invisibility cloak was addressed only to Harry, but it seemed to insinuate that Remus, at least, was taking care of him.

The only time the three of them really let loose was on the evening of Boxing Day, which was a full moon. Without the knowledge to brew Wolfsbane and not wanting to raise suspicions as most werewolves could not afford it, Remus had spent the majority of his adult life transforming without potion restrictions. It meant that his wolf took over completely, but it also made the transformations a lot less painful, which comforted Harry and Sirius. The two of them had accompanied Remus on the full moon for as long as Harry had been old enough to control the animagus spell.

As a child, Harry had seen his Godfather change into a dog regularly and had soon come to understand that on the nights that he was left in the neighbour's care if he could also become an animal he could join them. His want had been so great to join them that accidental magic had taken over and, at the age of six, he had transformed for the first time. For a long time he couldn't control his transformations, but by his following birthday he was joining his adopted parents under the moon as a slender black panther.

There was no way to control their actions on that night and Harry had learnt, as Sirius and James had before him, to rely on his animal instinct around the werewolf. Something in Remus, however, had identified Harry as his cub and the wolf had recognised and Harry had never been so much as scratched during a transformation, unlike Sirius, who Moony seemed to take joy in 'play' fighting with.

But, before they knew it, Harry was once again saying farewell to his Dad and Sirius and making his solitary way back to King's Cross to catch the train back to school. He met Draco and his mother on the station and greeted them both with a smile.

'Your cousin says thanks for helping me,' Harry told Narcissa.

Raising an aristocratic eyebrow, the lady responded; 'By which you mean that your father thanks me and Sirius is grudgingly grateful.'

Harry laughed and agreed with her, before leaving the Malfoys to their farewells and going in search of Stephen, who was already in a carriage with the other Ravenclaws of their year, talking excitedly about their holidays. Glad to be with his friends again, Harry settled quickly into the easy familiarity and barely noticed the time of the journey slipping by.

When they reached Hogsmeade station the first years followed the older years curiously, only ever having reached Hogwarts by boat before. A small host of carriages stood waiting for them, pulled by tall, terrible horse-like beasts that appeared not to have any skin. Harry glanced around him, but saw that none of the other first years seemed to notice anything extraordinary.

Shrugging it off, Harry thought it must just be another one of those Hogwarts things. Still, it seemed a little strange that none of the others, even the muggleborn first years, were reacting in anyway.

The carriage ride was short and before long Harry was back in the dormitories unpacking his bag.

'Hey Kevin,' Harry greeted his friend cheerfully, the quieter boy curled up on his bed and watching the others unpack.

'Hi Harry,' he responded quietly. 'How was your Christmas?' There was a strange depth of sadness to the question that Harry almost missed.

'There were a few unwelcome surprises-' Harry would tell Stephen and Kevin about the invisibility cloak from the headmaster later, in private, '-but mostly it was good. It was great to go home.' By which he meant that it was great to see Pads and his dad again. 'How was yours? Did you miss your family?'

Kevin had never explained why he hadn't gone home for the holidays, but Harry and Stephen had guessed that it had something to do with his situation at home, assuming from the state of Kevin's robes and school books that his parents simply did not have the money to escort him from and back to King's Cross every holiday. When an indescribable expression flitted across Kevin's features before disappearing again, fuelled by pain and sorrow, Harry wondered if the problem wasn't deeper than that.

'It was different to have Christmas without them,' Kevin said. 'But I had an alright time.'

Translating Kevin's earlier sadness to momentary homesickness pangs, Harry nodded. 'That's good to hear. Thanks for the necklace, by the way, it's really cool.' Harry unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and pulled the material aside to reveal the thin, tanned leather strap around his neck that was decorated with intricately embellished wooden beads.

Kevin smiled properly, then, before blushing and ducking his head in embarrassment. 'You're welcome. The book was really good as well.'

Harry laughed lightheartedly, glad his friend was in a better mood now. 'Not quite as personal, though.'

'You got him a book?' Stephen blurted out, introducing himself to the conversation. 'Our dear friend here carefully wraps and sends an immaculate, home made gift of a highly personal value and you send him a lousy book?!'

'It wasn't lousy. Besides, what did you get him?' Harry retorted indignantly.

'Chocolate!' Stephen exclaimed proudly. 'Some of Honeydukes' finest.'

'Pfft,' Harry snorted, clearly unimpressed. Then he ended all pretence of civility by whacking Stephen across the face with a pillow. Stephen took a moment to gather his bearings again before retaliating eagerly, Terry, Michael and Anthony all entering their own effort until the Ravenclaw first year boy's dorm was full of flying feathers and excited shrieks.

In the centre of it all, relatively untouched and utterly flummoxed, Kevin watched on bemusedly. 'It was good chocolate and a good book,' he told no one in particular a little helplessly. 'I _liked _them.'

'Not the point,' Stephen and Harry chorused through the cloud of feathers.

'Any excuse for a pillow fight,' one of the other boys - Michael, Kevin thought - agreed.

It took quite some time for the boys to settle down, finish unpacking their bags and show their new belongings gifted to them at Christmas to their friends. Eventually, however, the lights had been dimmed and each of them were curled up in his own bed waiting for sleep to come.

'Kev,' Harry said softly, so as not to disturb the others.

Kevin rolled over to face the other boy.

Harry smiled. 'Next holiday I'll stay at school with you, 'kay?'

There was only the soft sounds of sleep-deepened breathing as Kevin simply regarded the boy hero who was staring, unblinkingly at him with such wide, honest green eyes.

'I-'

Harry's smile didn't falter, though the blunt delight in it dulled to a effortless enjoyment of the moment, knowing this softly spoken promise had meant far more to his friend than either the book or the chocolates had.

'Thank you,' Kevin murmured finally.

The moment lasted a little longer as they gazed at each other through the dark, before both boys rolled over and drifted off into their own, individual dream worlds.

* * *

The next month passed swiftly for the boys. Stephen had found a book on myths about the Philosopher's Stone in his family's library and brought it back with him. Each of them had read it, but it didn't tell them anything beyond what it was believed to be and that it didn't exist. A fortnight into term, though, Kevin found a short reference to the Philosopher's Stone in relation to a Mr Nicolas Flamel and also, strangely enough, to Dumbledore.

'Sheesh, is there anything that doesn't lead back to Dumbly?' Harry had asked when they found the reference. Neither of the others had any response to that.

'Does anyone else find it odd,' Stephen asked, 'that this great, mythical stone has actually been created by some kind of magical mastermind, and yet the only reference we can find to it or its creator is less than a paragraph in some old, unused book?'

Kevin frowned and nodded. 'Weird,' he said.

But, despite their new information, there was little they could do with it. Harry and his friends knew that the stone was guarded by a Cerberus at the very least, and that Snape and Quirrell were both after it for some reason. What they did, though, was spread the word. Harry told Ron and Draco, who both told their friends, who told their friends and Stephen told Justin, who told his friends, who told their friends so that, within a few days of their discovery of the facts, the entirety of the first year knew about the three-headed dog and what it was protecting. They also knew that someone wished to steal it, although no one except Kevin, Stephen and Harry knew who.

As such there was barely a moment when there wasn't someone strolling past the entrance to the area of the third floor corridor that the Cerberus was guarding, something that didn't completely escaped the teachers' notice.

So, the fourth Thursday after their return from the Christmas holidays, Harry was called up to the headmaster's office.

The first time Harry received the message it said nothing about where the entrance to the office was, or how to get in once the entrance was found. So Harry ignored the notice completely, sharing a wink with Stephen and Kevin. The second time he was notified, it was after his transfiguration lesson by Professor McGonagall. This time he was given the directions, but not the password. After Harry waited at the gargoyle entrance for ten minutes he gave up and headed back to his common room.

Needless to say, it came as no surprise when Professor Dumbledore made his way down to the Ravenclaw common room and demanded to know where Harry was.

'Well, sir,' Harry told him, after standing up from his place lying on the floor before the fireplace, doing his homework, 'You didn't tell me where your office is or what the password was, so I couldn't get in.'

'You should have waited,' the professor informed him.

Harry smiled uncertainly. 'I did,' he said softly.

There was a moment as the elderly wizard studied the seemingly subdued youth before him. Harry's head was bowed, his gaze peering up through his messy fringe and he had a worried expression carefully smeared across his features. He looked suitably repentant. Unbeknownst to Dumbledore, this was a look that Harry had had perfected since infancy. With a trouble making godfather like Sirius who was more than willing to use Harry to pull the pranks, Harry had soon learnt exactly the right way to act when he knew he'd done something wrong but was merely a lackey, not the mastermind behind the trouble. It was a skill that, by the time he was eight, meant that Sirius was getting in trouble with Remus for something he hadn't been even remotely involved in.

Once again, it seemed to do the trick.

Dumbledore's kindly sternness was swept away by the grandfather look, complete twinkling blue eyes. 'Very well, my boy,' he said. 'If you could follow me?'

'But, curfew-' Harry tried to protest.

The Headmaster interrupted him with an infuriatingly patronising look. 'Come, come, I am not so old that I don't remember staying up late every night, curfew or not. Surely you can survive one late night?'

Glancing around him, Harry realised that the rest of the people in the common room were watching the interaction avidly and were now awaiting his response. Cursing his luck, Harry swept all bad feelings behind a mask, grinning ruefully up at the old man. 'You know boys too well, sir,' he said finally.

'Being a headmaster does give you some insight into young peoples' minds,' Dumbledore agreed, holding the entrance open for Harry to make his way past him.

The journey from the Ravenclaw tower to the Headmaster's office seemed to take forever, though it took no more than ten minutes at the most. Harry's thoughts the entire time were embittered and revolving around Dumbledore; what the man had said and done in the past, the spells he placed upon Harry and his part in the betrayal of the Potter's ten years previously. Eventually, they were riding the revolving staircase up to the office.

Harry's first impression of the room was that it was a mess. Although there were no food wrappers or tissues lying about, there seemed to be no order to what was there. The books on the bookcases were sorted neither alphabetically by title or author, nor were they organised by subject. They just were. Many of them were half pulled out and others lying open, their spines cracking, on top of the others. There were a series of strange metallic objects that whirled and whirred in what Harry imagined sounded a lot like frustration.

The most amusing thing for Harry, though, was an object that was supposed to measure the temperature and predict the weather. Sirius had an instrument very similar to the one gracing Dumbledore's wall, though his was older and more elegantly made than the Headmaster's. Situated next to the clock in the kitchen, Harry could not remember how young he was when he had told Pads that it was _wonky_. What he did remember, though, was being lifted up onto Pads' shoulders as his godfather demonstrated that if the device wasn't wonky, the weather predictions would be out.

Looking at the device that was set at a perfect parallel from the floor, it took all of his willpower to keep the superior grin that wished to steal across his face from doing so. Glancing out the window, where Harry could just see the sleet that was pouring from the skies, and then back at the clock, that was predicting thick mists and damp conditions, Harry knew that that time had been one where Sirius had not been joking.

Noticing where Harry's gaze was and the amusement that the eleven year old could no longer hide, Dumbledore sighed, reaching a hand up to make sure the device was still straight. 'It's never worked,' he explained. 'My predecessor paid a fortune for it and it seemed to work well enough for him, but I've never been able to get it to work. The charms are all working correctly, as far as I can tell. It's all very strange.'

Harry nodded, grinning. 'Um, sir, if you don't mind…' he trailed off.

'Oh, certainly.' Dumbledore moved around the desk, piled high with haphazardly placed parchments that made Harry once again have to try and control his wince. 'Please, take a seat, my boy,' the old man offered, waving a hand vaguely at the armchair across from him. 'Sherbet Lemon?'

A shallow dish full of bright yellow beads, winking up at him, appeared beneath Harry's nose.

'Um, no, thanks,' Harry replied, pushing the plate away gently.

'Straight to business, then?' the Headmaster asked. Harry's only response was to incline his head slightly. 'Now, my boy, I've heard from several of the teachers that the first years have taken to loitering outside the third floor corridor entrance. Can you tell me why?' The question was meant to be said in a kind way, but Harry easily picked up the underlying message: You _can _tell me, can't you?

'No sir,' Harry lied. He shifted his gaze up to meet that of the Headmaster's and winced away slightly as the penetrating blue eyes seared their way into him.

Harry had never been taught to fight the invasion of another mind into his, although he had picked up from various things he'd read that eye contact must be maintained. He had also taught himself to recognise the feeling of another mind invading his. So, when the first brushes of alien thoughts came, Harry quickly looked away, furious.

'Are you certain about that?' Dumbledore probed.

'Yes sir.'

There was a moment of heavy silence before Harry dared glance up again. Dumbledore was leant back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. 'I see,' was all he said.

The silence continued as both of them sat, looking at one another impassively. Dumbledore did not try and broach his mind again. Harry fiddled with a loose thread on his jumper sleeve.

'Harry,' Dumbledore finally said, releasing the word like a breathe that had been long held in anticipation. 'Am I correct in assuming that you are living with Remus Lupin?'

Harry paused a moment and considered his answer. Finally; 'My Dad, yeah.'

'Your Dad?' Dumbledore immediately jumped in. 'You are aware that your father is dead, aren't you?'

'Sure, Dad James is dead,' Harry told him as though he were stupid. 'But Dad Remus is alive and well. Or at least, he was when I left him to come back to school.'

'Is there anyone else living with you?' Dumbledore asked gently, urgently.

At that question an unholy glee filled Harry's find as he came up with a suitable response. 'Well, we have a dog called Padfoot…' Harry trailed off - the Headmaster would know exactly what that meant.

Sure enough, Dumbledore froze, the twinkle falling from his eyes and a deeply troubled expression slotted gracelessly into place. Moments later it was gone. 'Could you describe your dog, please, Harry?'

On the outside Harry was concerned - not so much about the possibilities of having a dog, but by the old man's seeming lack of mental stability. On the inside he rolling around in laughter. 'Well, he's, um, big. And black. He looks kinda like the Grim that you hear about in bedtime stories, except he's really kind. The worst he's done is slobber all over me. Why? Is he a Death Eater in disguise, or something?' Harry joked with a grin.

The solemnity in Dumbledore's gaze was highly gratifying. 'Have you ever noticed anything odd about Padfoot?'

Harry paused to think, deliberately extending the thinking time to draw out the Headmaster's worry. 'He actually catches his tale when he chases it?' Harry suggested blithely. 'I dunno. He's just a dog.'

'Harry,' Dumbledore said gravely, his expression worried. 'I fear that there are some things that you must know.'

Waiting patiently, Harry only nodded.

'Firstly, your "Dad" is a vicious beast; a werewolf who would not hesitate to kill you, no matter his outward appearance. He stole you from your relatives' when you were very little and hid you away from all the people who loved and cared for you. Your dog is in fact an animagus, who normally goes by the name of Sirius Black. He and your "Dad" were responsible for the betrayal and consequent deaths of your parents. They had been, and still are, in a relationship with one another and were severely jealous of the fact that your parents could procreate.'

Dumbledore waited for all of that information to set in, a smug smile hiding in the corners of his eyes and mouth.

'Um, sir?' Harry asked, green eyes narrowed slightly as his mind quickly struggled to find ways to deny the allegations.

'Yes, Harry.' The patronising tone was back, but this time it was pitying as well.

'I'm not very good with numbers,' Harry said, confusion clear in his face, 'But Pads is only just an adult. I really can't imagine my Dad having, um, a _relationship_ with a puppy. We bought him a year ago as a teensy puppy.'

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A/N: I am plagued with writer's block. I barely managed to squeeze this chapter out. Pity me.I apologise for the delay. I will try to be more prompt, but in this state of non-writing-ness that means nothing. Sorry. But! If you wish to read all the crap that never made it to my page on , go here: www (dot) freewebs (dot) com/calistabelle/index (dot) htm and choose the 'Harry Potter Fanfiction page. Although, don't bother if you're younger than, say, sixteen? My language is foul and I haven't put appropriate warnings on the stories yet. Whatever. You may like it.

_Much love  
Cal  
xxx_


	10. Of Mirrors and Meetings

**For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!)**

**NB: More Dumbly bashing and a very cool, if slightly OOC Snape...**

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Chapter Nine: Of Mirrors and Meetings

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The dumbfounded expression on the headmaster's face was worth having to put up with this farce of a meeting, no matter how short a time it lasted for. Because as soon as it was come, it was gone again.

'Harry, my boy-' Dumbledore began before Harry cut him off.

'If it isn't too much to ask, sir, I'd prefer if you didn't call me by my given name. We are not on familiar enough terms for that to be acceptable.'

Dumbledore regarded Harry for a long moment and the eleven year old shifted awkwardly under his gaze.

'Um - I know… I know about how my parents died-' the truth, that was, not some half-baked excuse to blame an entirely innocent man from a Dark family, '-and I know about Dad's relationship with - with Sirius Black.' Harry forced himself to stutter over that fact, as though it was something that pained him greatly. 'I know Remus is a werewolf - I have for as long as I can remember - but he's never harmed me in any way. I think I remind him too much of my parents to ever want harm on me.'

There was a long pause as Harry waited for the headmaster's response. There were two ways that this could go. Either Dumbledore could give his blessing and Harry could relax a little, knowing that being in the care of his Dad, at least, was allowed. Or Dumbledore could condemn it and Harry would have to force his way out of the headmaster's 'care' every holiday so he could return to his family.

'Where did you go for Christmas, Har- I apologise, Mr Potter?' Dumbledore was stalling, they both knew that.

'Home,' Harry answered simply, giving as much information as Dumbledore.

Another moment of silence passed and Harry could see the cool calculation taking place behind Dumbledore's eyes as the old wizard tried to figure out which was the best coarse of enquiry to take. He could ask about the tracking charm - they both knew about it - but that would mean openly acknowledging that he had placed a spell upon the boy that was illegal without the participant or their guardian's permission.

'I've noticed that you're rather friendly with Mr Malfoy,' Dumbledore said.

It wasn't a true question, so Harry ignored it, just staring back at the headmaster who gave a little sigh of frustration.

'You know, do you not, that the Malfoys are a Dark family?'

'Lady Malfoy is Sirius' cousin, yes,' Harry said. 'As are Bellatrix Lestrange and Andromeda Tonks.'

'Come now, you can not judge Mrs Tonks merely upon her relation to the Blacks,' the headmaster scolded gently, patronisingly.

Harry raised his eyebrows and briefly wished that he, like Draco, had the skill of raising just one. 'Are you saying, then, that I shouldn't judge Mrs Tonks on her family, but I should judge Draco?'

The question hovered mockingly in the air between them for a moment, before dissipating into a cloud of smug satisfaction and frustration. Harry waited a moment to see if Dumbledore would say anything more and, when he did, stood up to leave the room.

'Oh, and headmaster, thank you for the return of my father's coat. I do hope that any other possessions of his still with you will be returned promptly.'

'How-?'

Harry shot one last, scathing glance over his shoulder. 'The phoenix was a bit of a give away.' Then he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Fawkes trilled softly, laughing as Dumbledore frowned.

'I told you to return upon delivery,' he reprimanded the bird.

Fawkes trilled again, his song this time affronted, though still amused. Dumbledore liked to pretend that he could control the bird, that the phoenix was in his ownership, that he could understand Fawkes. But phoenixes chose their owners and Fawkes was tiring of his. As for understanding what he said - words were merely the expression of thoughts and emotion. Anyone could understand a phoenix if they only listened. And Dumbledore was beginning to stop listening.

Harry shook his head in distaste as he walked from the headmaster's office, having the distinct need to have a shower, as though being in the topsy-turvy room and dirtied him in some way. Hurrying down the corridors he didn't notice until he walked straight into it the shadow that stepped out in front of him.

'Potter!' an all-too familiar snarling voice sneered down at him as Harry scrambled to get to his feet from his place sprawled on the floor.

'Professor?' Harry asked tentatively, really not in the mood to deal with the snaky teacher.

Snape scowled at him, black eyes piercing and looking for something within Harry. Whether he found it or not, the younger man couldn't tell. 'It's past curfew,' he hissed finally.

'I know,' Harry answered, then bit his tongue - that probably wasn't the wisest tone to take. 'Dumbledore wanted to see me.'

'Really?' the potions master sneered, obviously not believing a word of it.

'Yeah, he wanted to tell me that my Dad was a werewolf who was fucking our puppy,' Harry growled back, throwing caution to the wind and raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and press the tips of his fingers into the corners of his eyes, suddenly feeling achingly tired.

Snape raised that mocking eyebrow and Harry glared all the more furiously for it.

'Since it'll be all over the papers before too long, yes my Dad is Remus Lupin, yes, I know he's not my biological parent, yes, he had an affair with Black and yes, I know he's a merlin-damned werewolf!' Harry snapped out.

'Moon-damned,' Snape corrected smoothly.

Harry blanched, sure he'd misheard. 'Excuse me?'

'Merlin cared naught for werewolves. Your dogfather is, therefore, moon-damned, not Merlin-damned.'

'Goddess be damned, Snape! I don't care!'

'Twenty points from Ravenclaw,' Snape informed him smartly, a vicious grin steeling across his grim features. 'And another three inches on your latest homework.'

'Whatever,' Harry replied, shoulders slumping as tiredness swept once more through him.

Snape regarded him through narrowed, pitch-black eyes for a moment longer before saying; 'You're playing a dangerous game, Potter, one in which one as young as you is at a great disadvantage.'

'Good thing I'm not just a boy, then, isn't it? I'm the bloody boy-_hero_,' Harry snarled viciously before twirling around in a manner reminiscent of the potions master himself and stalking off in the direction of Ravenclaw tower.

'Detention, tomorrow night!' Snape barked after him. Then, in a quieter voice that he knew the eleven year old would not hear, 'and two points to Ravenclaw for sheer gumption.' Harry Potter really was quite an interesting character.

* * *

Although the action itself was unexpected no one among the first years was surprised when Harry sat down in between Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson the following morning at lunch.

'Potter,' Draco said, clearly wondering what reaction he should be having to the situation. 'You are aware this isn't your table, aren't you?'

'Yes,' Harry replied and then dug into the scrambled egg he'd piled high on his plate, looking, for a moment, scarily like Vincent Crabbe.

Draco raised his eyebrow - the one Harry had been so envious of the night before - and shared a look with Pansy. 'What happened?' he asked.

Harry didn't respond, but Stephen launched himself across the bench in his usual display of it's-too-early-in-the-morning-to-be-alive. 'Dumbledore,' he grunted. 'Meddling fool, an irate Snape and not much sleep.'

The first-year Slytherins exchanged glances, but didn't ask any further as the two Ravenclaw boys dug into their breakfast. They would get no more explanation from Harry at that moment and if they pushed him now it was doubtful they would get any further information. So, patiently, they waited and ate their own food. Finally, not half way through the pile of eggs on his plate, Harry stopped eating and stretched languidly. He yawned widely, then grinned at his class mates.

'It's not too much to worry about,' Harry told them. 'Dumbledore was just hoping to scare me with the news my dad is a werewolf and having an affair with our pet dog.'

Draco choked and then did his very best to spray everyone with the pumpkin juice he'd been just about to swallow. He didn't do very well. 'What?' he spluttered.

Harry sighed and explained, once more, Dumbledore's shock tactic. 'Good grief, surely the man must know that I'm observant enough to notice when my Dad turns into a howling great hairy beast every full moon! Hell, half the time I run with him!'

There was a moment of silence at the Slytherin table before Harry realised what he'd said and clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and skin suddenly very pale.

'No, Harry,' Draco said quite calmly, but equally icily. 'Please do continue. Enlighten us as to what your previous comment meant.'

Harry grinned nervously and tilted his head to the side, screwing up his eyes a little. 'Well, you see… I _may_, possibly, some times be capable of occasionally turning into an animal. Maybe.'

'You're an animagus,' Draco paraphrased bluntly.

'Yes?' Harry responded, more of a question than an affirmation of Draco's accusation.

There was another long moment during which Harry took the time to notice that, whilst it had seemed at the time the entire table, if not the hall, had gone silent when he'd made his slip up, it was only the first year Slytherins who were paying any attention what-so-ever, although the occasional second year was shooting him a curious glance.

Finally, on a long drawn out breath, Draco replied, 'That is so cool!'

And Harry laughed, letting out his tension in a hearty guffaw that seemed infectious as the other first years began giggling along with him, and finally laughing too.

Once the laughter had died down a little Harry's eyes caught the headmaster's, far across the other side of the hall. His smile faded as the twinkle in the blue eyes became more fanatical. Harry blinked, once, then shook his head at the old man, before turning back to his friends. And they were his friends. At that point in time the war, dark and light and Dumbledore and Voldemort and the Order and the Death Eaters didn't exist for them. They were just a bunch of eleven and twelve year olds laughing together over breakfast. And Harry was determined to keep his life that way for as long as possible.

* * *

Harry woke at about midnight a week or so later with a curious desire to go wandering about the castle in his pyjamas. Having not felt compelled to do so ever before, except on the odd occasion at home when he wanted a midnight snack, Harry immediately recognised the desire for what it was - a spell. But, although he could recognise it, Harry couldn't do anything about it and, as it had been set in motion now, Harry did the only thing he could.

He prolonged leaving for as long as possible, changing into his normal clothes and taking a long time to do his laces, all the while making as much noise as possible. Stephen slept soundly through it all, but luckily for Harry, Kevin woke fairly soon.

'Harry?' the smaller boy murmured sleepily. 'What are you doing?'

'Spell,' Harry muttered. 'Compulsion of some sort. It wants me to wander the corridors.'

'Is there - is there anything I can do?' Kevin whispered back.

Harry glared at him, then regretted it a moment later when his friend winced. 'Sorry. But, unless you can perform the counter-charm for it, I doubt it.'

Kevin considered for a moment, watching as Harry tried his best to resist, making his reluctant way across the room towards the door. 'The Head Boy's a Ravenclaw this year, so I could wake him, but I think if I tried to explain this to him he'd run to the headmaster-'

'-who's probably the one who placed the spell on me in the first place, I know,' Harry sighed, dragging his feet and stumbling down the stairs towards the common room. 'I just - didn't want to go without someone knowing I was going.'

Kevin was wrapped up in a too-large, rather worn looking towelling dressing gown, padding along behind his friend with bare feet that looked very small and cold against the slate tiles. 'I'll come with you,' he offered.

Harry eyed his friend uncertainly - he didn't doubt Kevin's intentions, but wandering around the deserted corridors of an enchanted castle after curfew seemed… _wrong_, somehow. Harry didn't have long to consider his options, though, as he was dragged further towards the two-way mirror that was the Ravenclaw entrance. 'Kev,' he said. 'You can come if you want, but for Merlin's sake run up to our dorm and borrow my slippers, won't you? You're feet'll freeze otherwise.'

Kevin grinned, a little nervous, a little excited, but mostly grateful, and ran swiftly, almost silently, up the stairs, slipped Harry's slippers onto his feet, then raced back down in time to see Harry step through the entrance-way. He slipped out a moment after and stepped close to Harry so that the other boy could swing the Invisibility Cloak over both of them as they followed Harry's compulsion through the halls.

Harry was very tired - he was fed up with being kept from his sleep by meddling old men. But he could only yawn and go on. Goodness only knew what would happen if he fell asleep part way through the spell's completion. He could only be thankful that he _did_ have his father's old cloak so that no one would spot him and Kevin as they made their way through the castle.

He was also immensely grateful towards his quiet friend for coming along with him. Harry didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but he _was _scared. After all, Snape was right - he was still too young to be playing such a game as this. But it wasn't as though he had a choice, was it? At least he had Kevin with him. He wasn't entirely sure whether he preferred having Kevin with him than Stephen. In some ways it would have been nice to have the noisier, rambunctious boy with him. He didn't say anything though, and just pulled the Cloak a little closer about them.

It took what seemed like forever to arrive at the door the spell wanted them to reach. With more than a few nerves Harry raised a hand and carefully pushed the door open - how convenient that it was unlocked! There was no one there and there didn't seem to be anything hidden inside waiting to ambush them, so Harry shut the door behind them and dropped the cloak. Then he made his way over to where Kevin was now standing in front of a very large, ornate mirror.

'"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi",' Harry read out the inscription along the top.

Kevin drew in a slightly startled breath, as though he had forgotten that Harry was there. 'Harry?' he asked hesitantly.

'Hmm?' Harry responded, narrowing his eyes at the script, trying to work out what it might mean. It wasn't written in any language he recognised. And, though Harry couldn't speak anything other than English - excusing the odd Italian swear word here and there, picked up from Sirius - he could recognise most languages.

'Do - do you see them?' Kevin questioned breathlessly, lost in the image on the mirror.

Harry's attention was immediately concentrated on his surroundings. 'See who?' he demanded. 'Is anyone there?'

'No, no, Harry,' Kevin said emphatically. 'In the mirror. Do you see them?'

Harry turned and looked into the mirror, into it this time, rather than just at it. He stepped in front of Kevin to get a better look and gasped as people suddenly appeared. His mother and his father, each with an arm around the others' waist and smiling brilliantly at him. Then his dad, grinning a proper, full blown Remus-family grin, not the semi ones that most people saw. Sirius was there, too, as Padfoot and lying comfortably across his dad Remus and James' feet, staring adoringly up at the werewolf. Then, along with his family, were his friends. Draco and Stephen and Ron and Hermione and Pansy and his two best friends before he came to Hogwarts. And there, just behind him to the left, where he was stood in real life, Kevin peaked over his shoulder and grinned a dazzling smile.

'You should smile more, Kevin,' Harry told him in an approving tone, enraptured by the joy he could see from all of the people in the mirror.

'Huh?' Kevin asked.

Harry dragged his eyes away from the mirror to look at Kevin, frowning to see that the smile had been only in the mirror. 'In the mirror,' he said. 'You were smiling. You should do it more often.'

'You - you saw me?'

'Yeah. And my parents - my real and adoptive ones - and Draco and Ron and-' he cut himself off, eyes narrowing. 'Why, what did you see?'

There was a long, rather uncomfortable silence before Kevin answered, 'My parents.'

'Maybe it shows the family of whoever's looking in it,' Harry guessed.

'I'm not your family, though.'

'Yeah, but you are one of my best friends,' Harry informed him, as though it were obvious. 'And you know what they say; "friends are the family you choose for yourself".'

'Oh,' was all Kevin had to say to that.

Harry turned back and looked again at the inscription along the top of the mirror. 'Hey, look!' he noted after a moment, '"Erised" is "desire" backwards… oh!' Clapping a hand to his forehead at how long it had taken for him to figure it out, Harry began to read out the message backwards.

'Ishow - oh, I show… no toy, tyo… not you rfac ebu - what's ebu? - oh! Your face but yoooo urhe arts. Desire. _I show not your face but your hearts desire_,' Harry finally managed to make sense of it. He blinked. Once, twice. Then, on the third blink; 'But _why_ did Dumble-fart want to show me _this_??'

Kevin didn't look away from the mirror as he answered, 'Maybe it has to do with this Cerberus and Philosopher's Stone thing?'

Harry finally noticed his friend's infatuation with the image that the mirror was showing. He didn't like it. There was nothing wrong with seeing your heart's desire every once and a while, but to stare for so long at it, with such longing… Harry shuddered. He had a very bad feeling about this mirror. There was a sense of foreboding and decay about it that suggested that Kevin was not the first to become enraptured by it's magic.

'"_I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly_",' Harry quoted bitterly under his breath. What was that fool Dumbledore thinking? Then he spoke more loudly, resting a hand on Kevin's shoulder, gently tugging him away from the looking-glass. 'Come on, Kevin, we need to get back before anyone finds us gone.'

Kevin nodded dazedly, glancing back, longingly, one last time at the mirror before Harry shut the door on the room and they headed back to Ravenclaw.

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_A/N: Eh... I'm really, really sorry for taking so long uploading... not much else I can say... I love you guys!  
Much love,  
Cal  
xxx_

_PS the two-way mirror Ravenclaw entrance - I couldn't remember what kind of common room entrance way Ravenclaw has. Feel free to remind me..._


	11. Of Bogeymen and Hogsmeade

**For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!)**

**NB: This chapter is in memory of my copy of 'Of Mice and Men' by John Steinbeck. In memory cos I burnt it once I finished it - it was that boring. Don't worry, you book-lovers, I also love books. Just not that one. I also bought it for a grand total of 49p at my local charity shop. The money went to a good cause - cheap fuel. And starving orphans in Africa. The usual.**

_**IMPORTANT!!** This is the scaled-down 'T' version. I wrote my first ever more-graphic slash scene (ain't ya proud of me?) it's pretty rubbish, but since I want to try my hand at it but also want to keep this story 'T' the more mature version can be found here (remove spaces): http:// oofmiceandmenyr1 . webs . com/ ch10 . htm_

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**_Chapter Ten: Of Bogeymen and Hogsmeade_**

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It was dark. An all encompassing darkness. The kind of darkness that came just before the dawn - the blackest part of the night. But it was a warm darkness. A comforting, _longing_ darkness.

And, in that darkness, there was light. A flash of amber eyes looking at him, devouring him without ever touching him. Taking in every detail of his hot, needy body. They were hungry, those eyes. Hungry, lustful, passionate and yet, loving as well.

His head ducked to suck along his collar bone and those glowing amber eyes were replaced with soft caramel hair that brushed silkily along the underside of his chin and looked like spun gold in the dim candlelight.

And Severus keened. His back pulled taut like a bow string and his body arching towards his golden-coloured lover. Hot lips touched every part of him, worshipped every part of him. First his collar bone and his neck, then his shoulders and his pectorals and then - _oh Merlin!_ Severus whimpered as that mouth, that wicked, talented tongue, attacked already highly sensitive nipples. Pulling, twisting teasing, caressing.

Hands were everywhere, exploring every inch, every scar and ever birth mark. Nothing went unnoticed, untouched, unloved. And then lips were back on his face, kissing him with a fierce, passionate brutality that spoke silently of years of separation. They were both so desperate now, gasping and moaning and whining and longing for just a little more. Pushing to be two parts of one whole.

Severus couldn't tell how long it lasted, but every moment was worth savouring. Every second a sweet paradise. Then he was awake, once more. Alone in a cold bed without any flaxen-haired Remus who loved him and worshipped him and with sheets and pyjamas damp and clinging to him.

And Severus turned on his side, pulled the cover up over his head and he wept.

* * *

Months had passed since Kevin and Harry's discovery of the Mirror of Erised and nothing much had happened. After Kevin's reaction to the mirror Harry had made the decision not to tell anyone else, except for Stephen, about it. The rest of the first years, and the majority of the second years, by now too, still kept up their rota of guarding the door, but nothing had happened on that front either.

In fact, for the entire two and a bit months since the Christmas holidays the most exciting thing that had happened was Ron and his friends' venture into the forbidden forest. Ron, Dean and Seamus had, apparently, stumbled into Hagrid's cottage whilst the half-giant's dragon egg was hatching. The three boys had witnessed the scene with horrified amazement as they realised that Hagrid, soft-hearted, clumsy Hagrid, had a Dragon. And not just any dragon, a Norwegian Ridgeback.

One of Ron's elder brothers was a dragon keeper, so the boys had managed to successfully hand the dragon off to Charlie's friends. But they had been caught on their way back to the common room, as it had been the middle of the night. And Hermione, who had followed along, nagging about curfew and how dangerous it was and why, _why_, did they not just tell the teachers? had also been caught.

The four of them had served detention in the Forbidden Forest, helping Hagrid, ironically. The unicorns had been attacked and they had tried to help him find the source of the attack. They had not found anything evidential, but all four of them had returned to their beds a good deal paler than they had left them and with tales of some kind of demon among the trees and a warning from the centaurs that there was evil afoot.

A few days later and the adventure had become nothing more than a seriously cool detention, one that earned the respect of the majority of the first years for the four Gryffindors. Hermione, in particular, had become quite popular. The fact that the quite, studious girl had faced the dangers of the Forbidden Forest and the strange 'shadow demon' - who most were now dismissing as no more scary than a child's bogeyman story - without a flicker of an eyelid and had come out just as level headed as she had gone in made nearly everyone look at the bookish girl in a completely different light.

Of course, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Harry and Stephen weren't surprised at all. After the no nonsense way she had dealt with the troll earlier that year - and whilst hiding under a half-crushed sink at that - they had expected nothing less.

But with nothing more exciting than a new scary story, the Easter Holidays seemed to come around much faster than the Christmas ones had. Harry had written to his Dad and Sirius about wanting to stay in school with Kevin and they had understood, saying that next time Kevin should come and stay with them. Harry had also explained to them that Dumbledore knew he was staying with Remus. Therefore, Remus had written a polite, if brief, note to the Headmaster with a combination of honesty and half truths to explain the situation.

Losing his best friends and his lover in one strike had been two much, he said. Simply couldn't leave Harry with his muggle relatives, he said. Didn't want to lose Harry as well. Wanted Harry to grow up away from celebrity, but with a good understanding of the magical world, he said.

And Dumbledore had fallen for it; hook, line and sinker. When the situation with the Easter holidays had become known to him, he had even gone so far as to arrange a visit to Hogsmeade for the two Ravenclaws so that Harry could introduce his friend to his adoptive father. Harry had been over the moon to hear of that proposal and, for the first time, he felt himself soften slightly towards the old man. Not much, but a little.

Of course, when the time finally came, any softness that he might have felt disappeared without so much as a puff of smoke. For Harry and Kevin were to be accompanied by the one and only Professor Snape.

Potions lessons, since the Hallowe'en debacle, had become increasingly difficult for Harry. Snape had become determined to find some fault in the eleven year old and, as such, Harry found himself researching the topics they were studying to a level beyond that of fourth year. He did precisely the right amount of homework, for even a word too little was skiving his work and a word too much was brown nosing. Harry had switched partners to Michael, who was the best in their potions class besides himself.

Harry didn't know really quite why he was putting so much effort into his potions work. He was far exceeding the required knowledge and his potions and reached a level that rivalled any decent fifth year, even though he could only do that year's potions and not the more complicated ones of the following years. Harry despised Snape. He really, really hated the man. But he still felt this - what felt to him like an unnatural - desire to impress the teacher. Why, he could not say. It didn't work, anyway.

Or at least, it didn't work in anyway that was visible to Harry or the other students. The fact of the matter was that Snape _was_ impressed by Harry's work. It wasn't everyday he stumbled across an eleven year old even with the initiative to want to try and do what Harry was attempting, let alone with enough skill to actually pull it off. But Snape was bitter about it - incredibly bitter that Potter's spawn was able to create these potions with casual ease that so mimicked that of his father. Potter Sr, at least, had never been this brilliant at Potions. No, potions had been the one area that Snape was superior to Potter.

In his eagerness to spite Harry, Snape conveniently forgot that Lily - his best friend and Harry's mother - had been quite brilliant at Potions as well.

The day that Harry and Kevin were to go to Hogsmeade it was raining. Not a torrential downpour, more a sort of hesitant dampness that seemed to bring the world into sharper focus and made the cobwebs shine silver. They were scheduled to leave Hogwarts at 10, shortly after breakfast, but, as sure as Harry was that if they'd been late Snape would have cancelled the trip, they were on time and Snape kept them waiting. When their Potions professor finally arrived to take them Harry was eager to get out to meet his adoptive father.

'Can't contain your excitement, Potter?' Snape sneered as they headed out of Hogwarts and along the well-walked route to Hogsmeade.

'It's been three months, professor, wouldn't you be eager to meet your parents again after that length of time?' Harry shot back, too joyful about the upcoming reunion to be bothered by Snape's tone - after all his comment hadn't even been that mean.

'No,' the older wizard replied shortly, not looking at either of the boys as he strode calmly ahead.

Harry and Kevin exchanged a glance of raised eyebrows, walking more slowly behind him. The wind whipped around the three figures, sending hair and scarves and coats floating on the breeze and causing Kevin to shiver and pull his coat tighter around him. Harry smiled softly at his friend before winking and casting a silent warming charm over both of them. Kevin blinked, shocked for the second time in as many minutes, but then smiled gratefully and they jogged forward to catch up with their acerbic teacher.

'So, Prof, how'd you get roped into escorting us?' Harry said jovially, not afraid to tempt Snape to a rise now they were off Hogwarts grounds.

Snape glared at the eleven year old. 'Dumbledore asked me and I had nothing else to do.'

'So… he used emotional blackmail then vanished whatever potion you were working on?' Harry asked, elbowing Kevin when the other boy snorted softly.

'Yes,' Snape hissed so softly the boys almost didn't catch it as the wind whisked his words away. 'Unfortunately for your dog-father, the potion I was working on was six months' worth of wolfsbane the headmaster asked me to give to him.'

Harry laughed out loud at that, throwing his head back and letting out a loud guffaw. 'Didya hear that, Kev?' he asked in a stage whisper, 'He has a sense of humour!'

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. 'I assure you, Potter, I was not joking.'

'Perhaps, but dad has survived the last ten years without any wolfs bane, chances are-' here Harry leant forward and whispered conspiratorially, his eyes wide in exaggerated shock, '-he'll be fine!'

Then the eleven year old turned tail, grabbing Kevin's hand and racing forward along the path. 'Run!' he shouted, laughing again. 'The evil Potions Master's going to kill us!'

Snape swore violently under his breath, mind quick to imagine hundreds of different ways to kill the so-called Saviour of the wizarding world as slowly and painfully as possible. Before they were out of earshot though, he heard the other boy - whose name, he was ashamed to say, he couldn't quite remember - say, '"Us"? What "us"? _I_ had nothing to do with it!' And Potter laughed.

Severus' fist clenched and he screwed his eyes tight shut. In that mood - acting like that, laughing like that, joking like that - it was so easy to forget that Harry was Potter's child. It was like Lily was there again with her blazing green eyes and her bright red hair and her charming smile, teasing him again like only she dared to. Lily was the only one who had trusted him completely, trusted him enough that…

He bowed his head, ashamed of where his thoughts led.

'_A child, lost within a month of conception. The result of a sexual liaison between yourself and Lily Potter.'_

But that was pretty much his entire life summed up in one, cruel, unexpected sentence. The love he'd had for Lily - the love of a sister, a confidant, the _true_ meaning of best friend forever - reduced to nothing more than a 'sexual liaison' and an aborted pregnancy. How different would his life be now if that child had lived? If Lily had birthed _his_ son, rather than James'?

Severus looked up to see the flashes of black and blonde hair racing up the path someway ahead of him. Harry would have lived with him, grown up with him, been his _son_. Been his _family_. Lily probably wouldn't have died, nor James. Harry would have been shipped between the two households, loved more than one child could possibly ask for. He would be an ordinary kid, with no lightening bolt scar and no stupid prophesy to uphold - no Dark Lord trying to kill him. And Severus would know the name of his son's friend, invite both of them to his quarters on weekends. Take them to the Merlin-damned _zoo_.

And in that moment he hated Harry more than he could possibly express. Because he wasn't his son. Severus didn't have a family. He didn't have Lily and he didn't have a raven-haired child with her vibrant eyes that symbolised his nature so perfectly. He didn't have his pseudo-sister, he didn't have her son. He didn't even have her oh-so-annoying husband. He didn't even have her other best friend and the only man he'd ever loved.

Instead he had an annoying brat who was nothing more than an arrogant, rule-breaking child who served as a constant reminder of what could have been but wasn't. And Severus hated him.

* * *

Harry raced Kevin the rest of the way to Hogsmeade and beat him, but only just - not that you could tell from the way he was boasting about it. Kevin just rolled his eyes and slugged him one on the shoulder. And Harry grinned his blinding smile back and grabbed his hand again, this time dragging him to Honeydukes.

'I thought we were meeting your dad!' Kevin protested - although not very adamantly.

Harry shot him another grin. 'Yeah, but my dad lo-o-oves chocolate. I was going to buy a load of sweets under the cover of getting him some.' Harry winked and pulled Kevin along around the shop, showing his friend all of the different types of sweets.

'Have you been to Hogsmeade before?' Kevin asked once Harry finally stopped for breath.

'Nope, but there's a shop very like this near where I live and my dad's always keen to tell me stories about Hogwarts and his adventures there. Did you know that my dad used to know Snape, for example?' Harry asked cheerfully, collecting all the sweets and dumping them on the counter.

'Really?'

'Yep. They were in the same year. Even friends for a short while, before, well. Something happened,' Harry drew up short and frowned. What exactly _had_ happened? Now that he thought about it he couldn't really remember. He knew that for a number of years neither had any feelings one or another for each other, but for about half a year they were sort-of friends because they both studied with Lily. But then… well, _something_ had happened. He couldn't tell what, he couldn't remember ever being told. Needless to say, his dad never told any stories about Snape after that period of time.

'What?' Kevin spoke softly, but startling Harry from his thoughts anyway.

Harry didn't answer immediately, paying for the sweets and handing over the selection he'd picked out for Kevin. 'I don't know,' he answered just as quietly. 'Maybe he found out dad was a werewolf? Maybe Snape's prejudiced against them - mindless beasts and all that. I know he - my dad, that is - regrets that they couldn't have stayed friends.'

Kevin frowned and studied his boots, clutching the bag of sweets closer to his chest but saying nothing.

'Hey, you ok?' Harry asked.

His friend just nodded.

Harry grinned apologetically and chucked him a chocolate frog. 'Here, eat that. Chocolate's good for you and it's always good to torture hapless animal shaped sweets.'

Kevin screwed up his nose and opened the box, dropping it when the chocolate jumped up and landed on his face, startling him. As he pinched the frog between his forefinger and thumb Harry laughed. Determined to take Harry's advice, Kevin bit the frog's head off, watching half-disgustedly, half-amused as the body continued to wriggle grotesquely. He popped the rest off the sweet in his mouth.

'See? Doesn't that feel better?' Harry asked, still laughing.

'Muggles have jelly-babies,' Kevin deadpanned, pleased to note the shock on his friend's face. He grinned to himself and started towards The Three Broomsticks, where they had arranged to meet Remus.

Harry trailed along behind, the expression of a kicked puppy haunting his large eyes. 'Ke-e-ev… that was mean.'

'I wasn't lying.'

'I'm sure, but to think of it in that context…' Harry trailed off and shuddered.

'The boy-hero is capable of more than one-syllable words, I see,' Snape snarled, making the boys jump as he appeared from seemingly nowhere. 'Quick, call the press, the world must be warned,' he continued sarcastically. Then he placed a hand on the door to the inn, slamming it open. 'In,' he barked.

Kevin and Harry entered with their heads bowed. Snape neither saw nor heard Harry as he grinned and said so quietly that only Kevin heard him, 'Super-cali-fradgy-listic-expy-ally-docious. Hah! 14.' Not did he hear Kevin's soft snort of reply, 'Antidisestablishmentarianism. Only 12, but that's a real word.'

But Harry was no longer listening as he'd spotted his dad across the room. 'Moony!' he shouted in glee, running across the room and launching himself into his dad's - albeit rather surprised - arms.

'Hey, cub, you're late,' Remus accused.

'Fashionably so, always,' Harry teased back, a long standing joke between them. 'I got you chocolate, anyway, to make up for it.'

'Really?' Remus asked, regarding his son suspiciously.

'Uh huh,' Harry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of Chocolate frogs and a bar of Honeydukes' finest.

Remus squeezed him in thanks, before asking, 'What else you got in there, huh, cub?'

'Maybe, possibly, also a bag of Bertie Bott's,' Harry said. And, upon seeing his dad's look, '…or two… Anyway, come meet Kevin.' And once again Harry was on his feet , dragging someone else along behind him.

'He's in my house and is one of my best friends, along with Stephen - Cornfoot, I think you said dad James dated his dad's little sister in third year?'

But Remus had stopped listening as soon as he'd seen who was escorting the boys.

Snape glared at him, eyes cold and voice hard as he bit out, 'Lupin.'

'Severus.'

* * *

_A/N: Dun, dun, dun! Please don't hate me about that first scene! I mean, I wanted to give you guys some Snupin loving, but it's_ way _too early in the story to do that yet. You know, with Sirius and them thinking the other hates them and all that... oh, and I hope Severus is still in-character in this chapter. I'm not sure whether I made him too mushy. I heart Kevin, he's quickly becoming my fav character. Besides Remy and Sev, that is._

_Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and those of you who did check out the 'M' version, do let me know what you thought, yeah?  
Much love,  
Cal  
xxx_


	12. Of Butterbeer and Boredom

**For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are mine (d'oh!)**

**NB: Yeah, the usual, whatever, read it now. **

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* * *

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Chapter Eleven: Of Butterbeer and Boredom

* * *

'See?' Harry crowed triumphantly to Kevin. 'I told you that they knew each other and I knew they were both going to be utter prats about this.'

Snape turned his glare away from the werewolf and towards his adopted son. 'I am not and never will be a "prat".'

Harry's eyes went wide and innocent - too innocent. 'Really?' he asked quietly, bottom lip trembling. 'So you and Dad'll pretend to get on just for today?'

Snape's glare intensified, but he said nothing. Next to him Remus stifled a chuckle. Snape had been played by a master manipulator - although usually Harry just looked dejected for a while, causing Sirius to cave in, this way worked just as well - if not better - for the Head of Slytherin house. After all, Snape now had to behave himself else contradict his own words and become a - Merlin _forbid_ - "prat".

'I suppose you would find this funny wouldn't you, wolf?' Snape snapped, stalking over to the table Remus had been sitting at and folding himself gracefully into a pile of moping blackness on one of the chairs.

'Believe me, Severus, I am well used to Harry's wiles. Any chance to watch him use them on someone else is a relief,' Remus replied easily, mussing up Harry's hair and heading back to his table.

Harry bounced along after him, Kevin trailing behind. 'So long as you don't start calling me an "old bird" I don't think I mind being wily,' Harry informed them, collapsing next to his Dad. 'Especially when it gets me what I want,' he continued, grinning before turning to tremble his bottom lip at Remus.

'No cub,' Remus said immediately. 'Not until your thirteen, you _know_ that.'

'But I've had it befooooore,' Harry whined, tugging at his Dad's closest arm. 'Please? Just a half pint? I'll share it with Kev. Pretty please?'

Remus ignored the second part of Harry's begging and narrowed his eyes at the boy. 'And just when, Harry James Potter, have you had Butterbeer before?'

Harry beamed blindingly. 'I'll tell you if you buy me some,' he tried to negotiate.

'Pfft,' Remus said, 'As if I need to ask. I know exactly which trouble-maker gave some to you. And, no, you still can't have any.'

'Dad-'

'No,' Remus cut him off. 'Firstly, you know full well you aren't allowed until you turn thirteen. Second, it's not fair if I give you some and I don't get any for your friend _and_-' he said more loudly, stopping Harry from saying whatever he'd opened his mouth to say. '-no, I can't just give him some without permission from his parents.'

Harry bowed his head, mumbling something that might have been an apology.

Remus gave way a little, saying. 'I won't get you Butterbeer, but I can order you some ice cream… if you want some after all those Bertie Botts that is?'

'Yes!' Harry cried, jumping up in his seat and hugging Remus. 'Thank you!'

Remus chuckled at his cub's antics. 'Now perhaps you'd better introduce me properly to your friend?'

Harry glanced across at Kevin who he'd mostly forgotten about and was sitting very awkwardly next to Snape. 'Dad, this is Kevin, he's one of my best friends and really smart. Kev, this is my Dad, Remus Lupin.'

'It's nice to meet you, Mr Lupin,' Kevin said quietly, a little nervously offering a hand for the werewolf to shake.

Remus smiled softly at the quieter of the two boys. 'Now, now, none of that. It's Remus or Remy to you,' he answered kindly, taking Kevin's hand.

'Don't worry,' Harry informed his friend, shucking his shoulder across the table and grinning. 'He's no scarier than a bunny rabbit so long as there's no full moon about - then he turns into a huge, slobbering beast who chases you everywhere and tries to eat your heart out.'

'Actually,' Remus said mildly. 'I'm not too partial to heart. But I don't think you're helping Kevin's fear any, Cub.'

Kevin gulped, but then smiled a little at the older man. 'I… I know full moon's not for another week and a half, so we're safe.'

Harry and Remus were startled into laughter at Kevin's gumption of saying that, but delighting in it nonetheless. Then Remus called over Madame Rosmerta and the boys ordered their ice creams.

'Anything for you, Severus?' Remus asked, after ordering another round of tea for himself.

Snape, whose glare hadn't softened in the slightest, snarled a bit. 'I don't need charity, especially from you, _wolf_.'

Remus just watched the Potions Master for a little longer, before telling Rsomerta, politely, to make it two teas.

'Deaf as well, now, are you?' Snape spat, 'I _said_-'

'I know what you said, Sever-'

'Prat.'

There was a silent moment in which no one, with the exception of Harry, moved. Harry was stoutly ignoring both his father and his teacher, in favour of the strawberry ice cream that had appeared in front of him as soon as they had finished ordering.

'What did you say?' Snape asked coldly, freezing whatever warm was left in the atmosphere completely.

Harry finished his spoonful, embedded the eating implement in his treat and then turned his face up to meet his teacher's gaze full on. 'Prat,' he repeated calmly. 'Let's face it, _professor_. If you can't survive barely ten minutes in Dad's company without resorting to petty insults you're either jealous of him or fancy him. And since I can't really imagine you being jealous of Dad, you must fancy him. So you're a prat. Acting like a five year old boy pulling some girl's pigtails to get her attention.'

Snape baulked, then turned an interesting shade of red that any Slytherin would be ashamed of. 'How _dare_ you? You arrogant little upstart of a-'

'Prat.' And, thus, Snape was cut off again.

This time, however, it wasn't Harry who cut him off, as the green-eyed boy had already turned back to his ice cream, ready to ignore whatever barbs Snape might produce. Instead, it was Kevin who was staring up at him with clear blue eyes.

Snape raised one eyebrow, any hint of colour in his skin receding entirely. 'Excuse me, Mr Entwhistle?' he demanded, finally remembering the blonde's name.

'Prat,' he said, _cheerfully_. 'You know,' the boy said conversationally, and less shy than he had been for the entire meeting so far, 'I think you may be right, Harry. I think Snape does fancy your Dad. And jealous of you for getting all of his attention. I mean, never mind insults, now we're down to the…' he paused dramatically, leaning across the table to stage whisper to Harry, who'd also leant across to him, '_namecalling_.' He uttered the word like someone might talk about the Pope blaspheming - the greatest of errors.

'Enough!' Surprisingly, it was Remus who said this, not Snape. 'I think you've said more than enough, boys. And Harry, if this is the way you act in class, it's hardly surprising you get so many points taken or detentions, is it? I thought I'd raised you better than that. As for you Kevin, I doubt your parents expect that kind of behaviour, either. Now finish your ice creams in silence.'

Harry bowed his head shamefully and Kevin paled dramatically. Silently, Remus poured both himself and Snape a cup of tea and the group ate and drank, each lost in his own thoughts. After ten minutes both boys had finished their ice creams and were sitting, fiddling with their hands.

Finally, after letting them sit uncomfortably for a moment, Remus rolled his eyes and relented. 'Off, off, both of you, out! I know you're both longing to run into Zonko's and the Quidditch store and - dare I hope - the bookshop. Now get out and go and have fun. I'll expect you back here in half an hour.'

Harry looked up hopefully at his Dad.

'Forty minutes, no longer, now get!' Remus said, chuckling as Harry paused only long enough to give him a brief hug before scrambling from his seat and racing towards the door, Kevin following at an only slightly more sedate pace. And suddenly only Remus and Snape remained and everything seemed just as uncomfortable as before.

Remus sipped his tea quietly, barely tasting the milky sweet substance as it flowed, almost scalding, over his tongue. Snape sat opposite and didn't drink, only twirled the spoon in the inky, un-creamed depths thoughtfully and for lack of anything else to do.

Finally; a sigh. 'I suppose I ought to apologise to you,' Snape said reluctantly and stiffly. 'You haven't seen your son in months and then I ruin your reunion.'

'Oh, I shouldn't worry about it,' Remus said lightly, not meeting the other man's eyes. 'No doubt, in the wake of Zonko's they shall have forgotten. These things generally are.' A pause. 'Although, I must say, you certainly seem to catalyse Harry's bad behaviour.'

Snape didn't say anything, merely raising a solitary eyebrow again.

'I'm sure, after that little display, you won't believe me, but Harry is usually a very well behaved boy. For an eleven year old, at any rate.'

'I can believe you.' Snape said, a tad sullenly. He couldn't deny that usually Harry was very well behaved in class, it had only been that morning that he'd been acting up. The pause in conversation this time was longer, neither of them knowing what to say, or how to say it. 'In many ways, he brings out the worst in myself as well,' he murmured, the confession more than he'd ever been willing to admit to himself before. He hadn't wanted to say it, but here, with the only man he'd ever loved - ever _could_ love - it was hard to retain the uncaring Slytherin mask he'd worn for so long.

'He looks so like James, doesn't he?' Remus asked just as quietly, determined to keep the quiet, fragile companionship they seemed to be sharing. 'It scares me, sometimes.'

'How so?' Pure curiosity: how could this man, the best friend of James Potter, be scared of a young man who was so exactly like him.

'Besides his eyes, he looks exactly like James. But, besides a few of his less respectful characteristics, he acts exactly like Lily,' Remus explained. 'There's a reason he was put in Ravenclaw, you know. He yearns for knowledge, just as Lily did. Do you remember the way Lily would always complain about leaving books open and face down?'

'"You wouldn't like it if someone broke your spine, so don't crack theirs",' Snape recited - it was a phrase Lily had used innumerable times during their friendship.

'He says it, you know. Exactly the same, word for word, with the same outraged look in his eyes that she always used to have,' Remus said, voice breaking slightly. Then he chuckled, sadly. 'When I first took him in, he'd say it every time I even touched a book, like he was clinging to the last thing he remembered of his mother. I don't think he even knows where it comes from anymore.'

'He was talking already?' Snape queried, unsure why he was asking. He'd never expressed any interest in babies before and even less in Harry Potter, unless it was to get the boy into trouble. But, in those moments it wasn't Potter's brat, but Lily's baby they were talking of.

'Only one or two words that he understood, mostly 'mum', 'dad', 'moo'y' and 'pads' - his nicknames for myself and Sirius. But he babbled a lot, just repeating things I said to him. He wouldn't have understood what the phrase meant, but he remembered it and repeated it and knew to associate it to books. It didn't take him long to understand it, though, only a couple more months. And then he was soaking up every word he heard and talking at me, mostly at inopportune moments.'

'I can only imagine,' Snape murmured, drawing a chuckle from the werewolf, both men utterly absorbed by this retelling of Lily's son's infancy.

* * *

'Harry,' Kevin said, kicking the bottom of one of the shelves in the Quidditch supply shop in the hope it might give out and cause some excitement. 'I'm bored.'

Harry nodded absently and continued to gaze over the memorabilia that stocked the shelves. His gaze often returning longingly to the poster of the Wimbourne Wasps that was hanging by the front window - he'd wanted a poster of the whole team for _ages_.

'Ha-arry…' Kevin said again, kicking the shelf base with more gusto.

'Yeah?' Harry asked vaguely.

'Bored!' his friend shouted back. 'Very bored!'

'You two, be quiet!' the desk attendant snapped at them.

Harry startled at all the noise and span round. 'Kev?' he asked softly. 'Are you alright?'

'I'm bored out of my mind, Harry! We've been in here for twenty minutes already and you know I hate even the thought of flying.'

Harry looked guilty and quickly apologised to his friend. 'We'll go now, then. You decide where next.'

Kevin's face immediately lit up. 'OK!' he agreed readily. 'How about… hey, Harry?' he asked as they left the shop. 'Have you heard about the Hog's Head?' he continued, barely louder than a whisper now.

Harry's eyes widened. 'You mean the seedy old pub we caught those sixth years talking about weeks ago?'

'The one that sells drinks to those underage,' Kevin confirmed. 'Well, how about we go there and we get your butterbeer?'

'It's asking for trouble,' Harry said, obviously longing to go, but trying to talk himself out of it nonetheless.

'You went troll-baiting without me,' Kevin shot back. 'You owe me one.'

Harry grinned brilliantly and said only, 'good.' before the two boys shot off towards the seedy end of the village before anyone could see them to stop them. It took them only moments to spot the right place and go barrelling in. Quickly, the two boys sat themselves upon the barstools and ordered their butterbeers to a barkeep who didn't seem to give a toss that they were only eleven and whose twinkling blue eyes they were sure they recognised from somewhere.

Leaning against the sticky surface of the bar the two boys kept close together and said very little as they drank their butterbeers as quickly as they could and listened to the conversations going on around them. One, in particular, drew their interest, as one of the participants was Hogwarts own Gamekeeper, Hagrid.

'I knew I shouldn't have given it to you,' an unfamiliar voice said. 'I knew you wouldn't know how to properly take care of it.'

'I took perfec' care o' him,' Hagrid retorted. 'But i' was agains' school rules, werenit?'

'What? Couldn't control it properly?' the stranger taunted.

'I know how to take care o' and control and animals.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah. Take Fluffy, for example. Three headed dog, grew 'o be big as a house, had her since she were a pup - always were a fierce li'l bitch.'

There pause during which the stranger let out a disbelieving sigh and Kevin and Harry exchanged significant looks. Three headed dog - the Cerberus on the third floor was Hagrid's?

'Do tell how you controlled it?' the stranger prompted.

Hagrid huffed. 'Play 'er a bit o' music she falls straigh' asleep, don't she?'

'Now I know you're lying,' the stranger said.

Kevin and Harry looked down at their almost empty drinks and quickly swallowed the rest down. Looking at the time they still had another ten minutes left, so Harry felt they had plenty of time when he suggested to Kevin, 'Let's find out who the rat is.'

Kevin nodded and leaned closer to Harry so they could talk better without being over heard.

'He's got a great black cloak completely covering him and a large hood totally hiding his face. So what should we do?'

'Is your barstool wobbly?' Harry asked.

'Yes, why?'

'Mine, too. In a place like this, what are the bets that all of the other barstools are wobbly?'

Kevin grinned as he caught on.

'Now, with that pushing charm the Professor Flitwick so _conveniently_ taught us last lesson, we'll easily knock over his chair…'

Kevin nodded and completed the plan. 'You do the spell and I'll stoop to help him, see if I can get a glimpse of his face.'

'If not, just drag his hood down and then we'll make a break for it,' Harry suggested.

'Right,' Kevin quickly agreed, then stood and started to move passed Hagrid and his companion, as if to make his way to the loo.

Harry muttered the charm, and then cursed as he miss-aimed and hit Hagrid, who was closer. Hagrid fell away from Harry, towards the stranger and knocking him off his chair, as was the original plan. But, as the plan was supposed to not include Hagrid, it didn't take into account the half-giant's huge size, that was twice that of the usual man and resulted in the next person being pushed from their chair, and then, to Harry and Kevin's horror, the next, and the next. A domino effect rippled along the bar until all those hunched over the worktop ended up on the floor, except Harry.

'Uh… whoops?' he said apologetically as everyone looked up to glare at the one who they - correctly - assumed had caused their discomfiture. 'Kev?' Harry called quietly across the room as the ones on the floor started hauling themselves to their feet.

'Yeah?' the other boy asked nervously.

'I think now would be a good time to run again,' Harry suggested.

'Yeah.'

The boys waited only a moment longer before letting out cries that could be taken either as battle cries or cries of terror, and fleeing out of the exit, oblivious to the barkeeper's hearty chuckle and vague waves to the customers to leave be.

When it was clear that no one was following them and with five minutes still left before they had to return to the Three Broomsticks, the boys slowed to a walk. They shared another look before they both burst into laughter.

'That was brilliant!' Kevin choked out around his guffaws.

'Did you see their faces!'

'Well it's not every day a giant gets dropped on you, is it?'

'I know! How amazing! Way better than our original plan - we'd have only got one down that way. How many did we get down instead?'

'I reckon ten!'

'No way! More like twenty!' Harry laughed out and they continued that way, the numbers getting larger and more extravagant as they got closer to The Three Broomsticks, until they had over seventy on the floor along with, oddly, a merman who Kevin swore he'd seen sitting at the end telling knock-knock jokes.

And so, for a while, the stranger to whom Hagrid had been talking, was forgotten, along with the purpose of their prank. The boys managed to remember enough to stop talking about it when they entered the pub and rejoined Remus and Snape, but their silence and laughter flushed faces were enough to make the adults suspicious.

'Alright, cub, what have you been up to?' Remus asked as the boys settled themselves next to the two men.

'Nothing, Dad,' Harry declared, grinning winningly. 'Absolutely nothing!' And Kevin burst into laughter, but Remus could get not a word out of either of them.

The rest of the day passed well. Snape left them shortly afterwards to do his own shopping and the remaining trio had a whale of a time, from the monster baguettes they had for lunch - which they had presumed meant they were large, until it became obvious "monster" had been literally translated as "monster" - to their trip to Zonko's when the boy's explained they hadn't had time to go in there because they'd been in the Quidditch store and the bookshop. Remus had been suspicious of this at first, but soon forgot in favour of behaving like a child himself when faced with all of the prank products.

When Snape eventually did return, some hours later, the boys were tired out and Remus looked just as exhausted, so the farewells were brief.

'You take care, cub.'

'Yes, sir,' Harry responded, snapping a tired salute.

'You too, Kevin. It's been great meeting you,' Remus finished, before hugging Harry one last time, nodding to Snape and then disapparating with a loud crack.

The journey back to the castle was slower and more low-key than their departure from the school had been that morning, but no one seemed to mind. It was on the way back that Harry remembered the conversation they'd overheard, but only once Snape had left them in the Entrance Hall that he dared ask Kevin who it had been.

'Put it this way, Harry,' Kevin replied, yawning. 'I saw purple turban under all that black.'

_

* * *

_

A/N: You like? Harry's such a rebel. The bit between Sev and Remy was weird to write - how did you guys find it? I didn't put too much about either of their feelings into it as I didn't feel like writing the encounter twice, from both Sev and Remy's POV. But I figured that the only way they would start bridging the gap would be over Lily, so… what did you think?

_You know you love me, so please review?_

_Much love,  
Cal  
xxx_

_PS I know Kevin's hair colour keeps changing, but I checked in my original description of him and he was blonde, so I went back and altered the previous chapter._


	13. Of First, Second and Third Years

**For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are mine (d'oh!)**

**NB: Uh... not much of anything I should warn you of in here. Except, perhaps, boredom? Not much happens this chapter, I'm afraid. Other than the preparation for the resistance. **

* * *

_**Chapter Twelve: Of First, Second and Third Years**_

* * *

Harry was not ashamed to say that he felt no little gleeful vindictiveness in the delicious irony that shortly followed his and Kevin's trip to Hogsmeade. That it was Dumbledore, of all people, who gave him the idea to keep an eye on the brewing trouble the headmaster was either blind to or ignorant of.

Not long after his return to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays Harry had explained to Stephen and Kevin about the tracking stone that Dumbledore had tried to follow him with. Whilst at the time there was nothing that could be done about it, not gave Harry and Kevin the perfect opportunity to take that knowledge and turn it back round, not on Dumbledore, but on Quirrell.

'There's no way Quirrell's just going to go after the Stone,' Harry said in whispers to Kevin during breakfast the next morning. Normally they wouldn't have discussed something like that at the House Tables, but what with the rather depleted numbers over the holidays, they didn't have to worry quite so much. Especially considering the only teachers at the Head Table were their own Head of House and Madame Hooch, neither of whom posed a 'threat' in the First Years' calculations. 'Not when there have to be tonnes of wards surrounding the Stone and with all the teachers in school.'

'Yeah, but who's likely to have contributed to those wards?' Kevin whispered back. The Muggleborn didn't have the same understanding of the many complex protective wards available to wizards that Harry did, having lived in a house smothered in them for the majority of his life, but he knew enough to make sensible judgements. 'Most definitely the headmaster, but then also all of the Heads of House and major subject teachers. So, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Plus "Fluffy" who he already knows how to get past.'

'And if we suppose that Snape and Quirrell are in this together, then that's half of the puzzle sorted out,' Harry continued, then let out a low, long whistle.

'Once you have the outline, it doesn't take much extra effort to fill in the rest,' Kevin added sulkily.

'I dunno,' Harry said. 'There may be more teachers who are involved, that we haven't thought of, though it's unlikely Sinistra is in on it.' Professor Sinistra, though a demanding and brilliant Astrology and Astronomy teacher wasn't, when all was said and done, that great a witch. In fact, she was only mediocre at best and far below the standard for the rest of the teachers. 'And I don't see why Herbology might not be involved. We've read about plenty enough deadly plants already. And then there are the subjects that we haven't started yet. There could be an Ancient Runes or Arithmancy challenge. We already know that Care of Magical Creatures is being used.'

Kevin smiled again then. 'And since it's probably layers of wards, then there are probably layers that neither Quirrell nor Snape even know about. If they've only just managed to work out how to get past Fluffy, who's the most obvious threat, then it could take them years yet to work out how to get through.'

Harry nodded and smiled at his friend, although silently he wondered if perhaps the reverse was also true - leaving the most obvious and therefore the easiest obstacle until last to figure out how to get past. 'This is assuming that Snape and Quirrell _are_ working together. They could be working separately towards the same goal.'

And then Anthony Goldstein and a couple of the First Year girls from Ravenclaw who had stayed for the Holidays joined them and the subject was dropped temporarily in favour of complaining about the excessive amount of revision the teachers had set them in preparation for their summer exams. Ravenclaws they might be, but they were also eleven and twelve year olds and reluctant to do work.

The rest of that week sped past surprisingly quickly, with very little thought given to the case of the Philosopher's Stone other than a brief message sent out to Stephen to let him know what was going on. Before he knew it, the rest of the Students had returned and exam season had started.

On the first day back, however, Harry called a meeting. This time there were no secret messages passed between the friendship groups within each house. This time everyone interested in First Year was invited to attend a meeting in one of the barren and abandoned classrooms in a usual empty part of the castle, that was only used for History of Magic.

Not everyone turned up from the First Year, but a surprising number of Second and even Third Years also showed, so Harry had no embittered thoughts as he called Ron, Draco, Justin and Stephen to the front of the room to begin the meeting.

Any teachers, if they had been there would have been surprised by the quiet that enclosed the room and the complete concentration everyone gave to all of the suggestions made. It was Stephen who finally came up with the idea of placing mild tracking charms on teachers to keep an eye on what and where they were going. It was the Weasley twins who offered forth one of their less legal creations for inspection.

It was, basically, water and it worked in much the same way as Dumbledore's idea had, but was instead, they explained, for spilling over someone, rather than making them drink it. That way you only lost very little and it was easier to track. The tracking spell itself was a lot weaker and more crude than Dumbledore's had been, but the presentation was much more elegant than the Headmaster's had been. And, in a weird way, less intrusive, despite still being a tracking charm.

Harry tasked them with applying the water to the teachers and then keeping an eye on them. General consensus was that all of the teachers should have the water thrown on them for, if Snape and Quirrell were involved, there was no telling who else might be. Then Harry informed everyone on his and Kevin's ideas of what the wards surrounding the Stone might involve.

'There's no telling what might happen and, if worst comes to worst, I imagine that we may have to go after the perpetrator ourselves and stop him. I know that sounds like suicide, considering what I've just told you, but we would be following in Quirrell's footsteps, so he would no doubt have left behind clues as to what to do. Anyone who's not willing to go after the Stone, if you still want to be involved you can be used as guards to keep an eye out for trouble.' Here, Harry's eyes met Kevin's briefly across the room. 'If you don't want to be involved at all, that's also fine.'

A number rose and left, some apologising softly, others just leaving. Most stayed. And then began the somewhat epic task of sorting through everyone who had stayed to decide who would be the best asset to take with them. Each of Harry's "Leaders" knew the talents of their classmates and before too long only the best at each of the subjects remained. There were still too many for Harry to realistically take with him, and they still hadn't taken the Second or the Third Years into consideration.

Pausing for a moment, Harry then turned to the older years and asked them if they could leave only the three best among them for facing the sort of challenges he had described. Many of them were disgruntled, looking at the ten First Years that remained, but nevertheless did as Harry asked, leaving the Ravenclaw wondering how much power he now had over the students and how on earth he came to have it.

Finally, only sixteen students, plus Harry remained. Kevin had left with the rest of the First Years and Harry had no doubt that his friend was now listening closely to what the other students were saying and would report back to him on the general opinion at the moment - whether it was weary, angry or just mildly amused. For a brief moment Harry felt as though he actually was a war leader preparing his troops for battle. Then he shook his head and cleared the vision, smiling wryly to himself.

Turning to those who remained he was not surprised with most of those who remained. Hermione was still there, looking eager and excited, but wary as well. As top of almost all of her classes, she was hardly surprising. Draco, Justin, Stephen and Ron had all stayed. Mostly, Harry was sure, because of their status within their houses. Theodore Nott had remained - he was exceptionally good at Charms. Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan, Hufflepuff. And, finally, the two that surprised him - Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom.

'Seamus?' Harry wasn't quite sure whether or not he could politely call the Irish boy by his first name, but the Gryffindor just grinned.

'I know I kept blowing stuff up at the beginning of this year, but that's only fair considering my heritage.'

Harry shared a sidelong look with Draco, who shrugged.

'Me Ma's something of a fire mage. She passed the trait on to me,' Seamus explained with a bigger grin, that grew even larger when Harry's mouth dropped open and he full on stared at the other boy.

'Something of a…' Harry trailed off and shook himself again. 'Ok, Ok. So you blew stuff up. Fair dos. Better control now?'

'Bit. Not brilliant, but a lot better.'

'Good. Ok. Neville?' Harry quickly turned to the last of the group before he lost his pride altogether amongst his own stuttering.

'Herbology,' the quiet, clumsy boy said.

Harry considered for a moment, before nodding to himself. 'Ok, here's what we're going to do. Draco, Stephen and Hermione, I want you to stay with me. Ernie, Seamus and Justin, I'm going to ask that you stay behind, but I want you to sort out the guard duty side of things. I want you to make sure that there is some kind of surveillance on the entrance to Cerberus' room at all times. Ron, Neville, Susan, Theo. You guys will come with us, but as soon your skills have been tested and used I want you to stop and stay where you are, so the tunnel is guarded all the way through. Understood?' Harry's tone brooked no room for argument and the First Years didn't feel the need to argue.

Looking at the Second Years then, Harry knew that he wouldn't take any of them with him if it did come to heading after the Stone. Unlike his own year, where he recognised and could name all of those remaining, he didn't know the names of any of the three and only vaguely recalled two of their faces. Pausing for a moment as Harry considered, he then said, 'Contacts. I need you three to come up with and work on a way of immediate contact between us eleven-' he indicated himself and the other First Years '-and also, to a lesser extent, those who simply want to know what's going on or are working as guards. Feel free to come up with a false excuse and ask the teachers about this.'

Finally, after seeing that the Second Years also seemed to have no problem with tasks given, Harry turned to the three Third Years. Very few Third Years had turned up, so it didn't surprise him at all to find it was the Weasley twins and their friend and the biased Quidditch Commentator, Lee Jordan. Harry scowled at them. 'You already know what you're doing.'

In scarily precise unison the twins snapped their heels together, raised a hand in salute and said, rigidly, 'Yes sir!' before cracking up. Harry raised an eyebrow at them and turned back to the room as a whole.

'Acceptable?' he asked, mostly because he couldn't believe everything had sorted itself out so well. Stephen would want to understand his reasoning behind who he put where later, but that was not something he was going to admit out loud. Mostly because his choice of Draco and Stephen was personal rather than professional.

'I don't understand all of your choices,' Hermione said with a sharp glance that told Harry that she knew there was more than just tactics behind his choices. 'But I have no problem with the way this is planned.'

Which as close to approval Harry was going to get from anyone and it was more than he expected, so he grinned thankfully at her and the last of the meeting dispersed until only Stephen and Draco remained. Draco, predictably, burst out with complaints.

'How many Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors do we need to take with us!' he exclaimed. 'There aren't even that many Ravenclaws, and you're supposed to be the smartest!'

Harry gave him a hard, contemplative look before explaining, simply, 'But Ravenclaws are hardworking, polite, and that isn't what I asked for. Much as I also didn't ask for the subtle slowness of Slytherin. I asked for people who could batter down Wards and fight an as yet unknown foe. For which Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs with their bravery and hard work, are perfect. Ernie, Justin and Seamus are loyal, but their skills too unreliable, so they are heading the sentries. Heading, because they are too impatient to actually sit down and just watch. As for the others, they are all the best in our year at what they do best, but would become a hindrance if they stayed with us after they have fought against their part of the wards. With the exception of Hermione who is just Hermione.'

Draco nodded at that last, but did not stop frowning. 'But what about Ron? Why not stick him with the 'Puffs and Seamus?'

'Chess,' Stephen said, beaming. 'That boy has a mind like you have no idea when it comes to strategy and outwitting his opponent. It's terrifying. Until he loses his temper, then it's just funny.'

Harry and Stephen shared a look and a snigger in remembrance to the game Neville had interrupted between Ron and Stephen by knocking half the pieces off of their places. The boys had tried to put them back where they had been, but Ron had ended up ordering his pieces just to attack Stephen instead. Madame Pomfrey had been annoyed but unsurprised when Stephen had turned up with a myriad of tiny cuts and bruises all over his face. Doubtless it wasn't the first time something similar had happened.

Draco slowly, reluctantly acceded, but with only the promise that he could talk to "his" Slytherins about how Harry had planned things out and that he could arrange how they would do things from there.

'By all means, Draco,' Harry had responded. 'Feel free to talk to the Second Years about their task as well. I'm sure the Slytherins have their own secrets.'

'Just you remember that,' Draco said and sniffed pompously, before grinning again and the three of them left, just managing to catch the end of dinner.

* * *

Harry was lying on his back, staring at the canopy above his bed and trying not to let out continuous, frustrated sighs. From the looks he was getting from Kevin and Stephen, he wasn't succeeding. Harry's problem was that the discovery of Quirrell's manipulation of Hagrid hadn't changed an awful lot and over the past three weeks nothing had happened. At all.

The exams, after three, long, gruelling weeks, were finally over and Harry had to admit that, despite the tediousness of the exams themselves, they hadn't been that bad. An irritation, certainly, but a good excuse to recap all of the knowledge they had had to stuff into their heads over the past year. Even the Purebloods who had been taught a healthy amount of magic at home had learnt a mass of new spells.

But with that distraction gone, Harry found he now had more time to brood. Which wasn't a good thing. It hadn't take him long to come to the realisation that what Kevin had seen at the Hogs Head wasn't conclusive evidence of anything except the fact that it was Quirrell who gave Hagrid the Dragon's egg and he now knew how to tame Fluffy. They had already known that Quirrell and Snape were involved, in some way, with trying to get the Philosopher's Stone. Kevin had over heard a conversation that condemned one if not both of them. But there was nothing conclusive. Nothing absolute. And Harry hated it.

He hated the waiting. The not knowing. The expectation to sit back and just carry on. Harry wanted - no, _needed _- to do something.

'Is Lisa in the common room, do you know?' Harry asked suddenly, sitting up sharply.

Stephen glared scathingly at him. 'How should _we_ know? We were up here when you arrived.' Which was true. And a bit odd. Because Stephen seemed to be as interested in the bed drapes as Harry had been. Kevin was ignoring both of them in favour of a large, heavy, boring-looking book. Harry knew it only looked boring, because Kevin had borrowed it from him and it was actually a very good read, if you could put up with the "thee"s and "thou"s strewn throughout.

'Whatever,' he said, grabbed his broom, and left.

As it turned out Lisa wasn't in the common room, but Roger Davies, one of the Ravenclaw team Chasers was and, seeing Harry's broom, had run up to get his own, prompting several of the others to do the same and leading to an impromptu game with ridiculous numbers of chasers and seekers on both teams, especially when the other houses began to join in as well. It wasn't quite what Harry had planned, thinking only of a long, relaxing flight around the grounds, but it distracted him from the strange, stagnant monotony that waiting for Quirrell's move had created. And that was good.

It was even better when Filch came out to yell at them and everyone, in an attack of numbers over authority, ignored him.

* * *

_AN: OK, so that's the end of another chapter and I hope I haven't bored you too much with the 'who's going to with Harry' stuff that seemed to take up the majority of this chapter. I wasn't entirely sure on where I wanted this chapter to go, because they still have ages left yet before the end of term and, according to the books, Harry's out three days, has one day bedrest and then it's the end of term Feast, which is the last day or second to last day of July because they get two months summer holiday. And Easter is early April sort of time._

_I don't do time and dates. It confuses me (and my readers. If you don't have a really random mind, don't read WtMT. I read it back and the whole time travel over lapping itself is awful.)_

_Anyway new chapters will come soon because I want to play around with second year already. (actually, I want it to be fourth year, but that's aiming too high) I'm aiming for fifteen chapters to finish off Harry's first year and then maybe two for the summer hols. I don't know, we'll see._

_Much love  
__Cal  
__xxx_


	14. Of Surprises and Singing

**For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are mine (d'oh!)**

**NB: Yeah, the usual, whatever, read it now. **

* * *

_**Chapter Thirteen: Of Surprises and Singing**_

* * *

Severus stared at the letter in his hands in utter astonishment.

How long had it been since he'd been anything more than reluctantly civil to anyone? How long had it been since he'd been anything less than spiteful to anyone other than his colleagues? How long had it been since he'd received mail that was not a bill or a Howler or a newspaper or journal?

As of now, about ten seconds. Before that? Ten years. Not since Lily had been alive.

And yet here, piled neatly on top of his monthly Potions Journal, was a letter that was quite certainly handwritten, if the address on the outside was any indication and quite possibly friendly, if the owl that had stayed and amiably nipped him on the ear was any indication. Severus wondered if the students had taken their pranks a step further and were now booby trapping his mail. It was not, after one of the Weasley twins had quite calmly walked up to him and dumped a glass of water over his head, impossible.

So, it was perfectly sensible for him to open it using his wand and behind several fairly powerful magical shields to protect him from bodily harm, should it have been booby trapped. It was not. Severus refused to feel foolish about his precautions. Although that refusal was hard to keep when a letter from _Remus_ fell out of the envelope, followed by a couple of black and white photographs.

Hesitantly and scolding himself for the hope that jumped up and slammed his heart against his ribcage and tightened around his throat he opened the letter, putting the photos to one side for a moment, not looking at them. He would never admit it, but he felt a strange irrational fear about what the images might be of.

_Dear Severus,_

_I hope I am not too presumptuous in writing to you, but during our meeting over the Easter Holidays you expressed an interest in Harry's infancy and so I took the liberty of copying some of our photographs of him as a child, when he did not look quite so much like James._

_I apologise for the length of time it took to procure these images, but as you can imagine, there are no magical photograph developers that would agree to serve a werewolf, even if that werewolf is looking after their so called hero. And I'm sure you recall that it was not I of the four of us who was gifted in Charms. It took some time to look up the right spell and, even then, I could not find the right one for including colour. If you wish to view the originals and the rest of our collection, feel free to owl me._

_Hoping that you are well,_

_Remus Lupin_

Amazed that Remus might go to such lengths for _him_, Severus carefully folded the letter up and tucked it into the inside of his teaching robes. Then he flipped the images back over to take a long look at them. There were only five in total, but each was a tiny snippet of Lily's baby boy's life and to be treasured.

The first showed Harry at about four years of age, earnest eyes blinking largely up at the camera, a crooked grin already settled nervously across his lips. He was dressed in plain black trousers, a white shirt and a light-coloured v-neck jumper with an emblem of some kind over his left breast. In his hands he clutched a collection of stationery equipment and what appeared to be a satchel containing his lunch. His features had too much baby fat still to remind Severus of James too much, although the messy black mop of hair even then could not be tamed. This must be his first day of school, Severus summarised and allowed a tiny smile to flicker across his own lips, making the child in the photo lose a little of his nervousness and wave timidly up.

The next photo was another classic. Harry was at some kind of birthday party, his face flushed and his eyes bright. He was a little older in this one and surrounded by others of the same age, all with the same excited look. The children smiled up at the camera like someone holding their breathe, and when that breathe was released they flew everywhere, laughing and playing, chasing each other about the room before coming to a stand still and smiling at the camera again. Food and toys and wrapping paper were flying everywhere and nothing seemed to stand still. It was then that Severus realised why he did not mind Harry at all at this age - he had yet to start wearing the glasses that were such a trademark of his father.

The third was sweet but not something that Severus could have imagined including in the small pack, if he had been the one sending the photos. This was a picture of Remus and Harry during what appeared to be a Christmas celebration. Remus was asleep across the sofa, his head resting at an awkward angle against one arm rest, his ankles crossed on the other. One arm was flopped over the side, the back of his fingers lightly grazing the floor. The other arm was curled around the figure on his chest.

Harry was far younger in this photo and Severus imagined that it could not have been long after Voldemort's downfall, if not shortly before. He lay on his front on Remus' chest, chubby hands curled and clutching at the front of the werewolf's shirt and facing the camera. This photo didn't move a lot, Harry only lay there and smiled towards him, blinking every once in a while and wriggling closer to his foster-father every time the man drew a deeper breath, letting out snuffly snores.

Severus felt as though he could stare at this photo for the rest of eternity if he was given the opportunity. He could imagine that it was he who took it. That he could claim the man in that photo as his lover, the babe in his arms _his_ foster-child. Bringing Lily's child up as his and Remus' own. What a future that might have been. And so he quickly moved that photograph to the back of the pile and turned to the next.

This one was not of a specific event or celebration, it was simply a photograph of Harry. The child was standing and grinning widely at the camera, face and hands smeared with flour and butter and various other cooking ingredients. He looked younger in this than the first photo and there was no nervousness in his expression, only a quieter version of the excitement from the party photo. He held a wooden spoon in one hand that he occasionally brought to his mouth and sucked at enthusiastically, eyes glowing with mischief. Severus smiled softly at the boy and the image responded by pulling the spoon from his mouth and offering him a broad, sticky grin in response.

When he turned to the final photo he thought he might weep. He had very few photos that meant anything personal to him for many of those that had once meant something were now only a harsh reminder of things he could not have. He had only ever had three photos of Lily. His sister in everything but blood they were around one another constantly, why should he need a photograph of her when he had her? Of course, once she died, he had regretted not taking more photos.

This last brought that number up to four, at least. It was an image of Lily balancing Harry on her hip, both of them grinning the same, wild grin up at him. Her hair was tied back in the same, sloppy bun that she despaired of ever holding her hair back, but always used anyway. Harry had stretched a hand up and had a handful of loose strands clutched in one first, his face lighting up and sudden giggles bursting forth at sporadic moments as Lily tried to fight it back off him before giving up and ruffling his hair in response. It was a perfect photo.

With trembling hands Severus laid the images back on his table and stood, bracing himself against the hard work surface. Then he moved to fetch ink and parchment, setting them before him carefully. He dipped his quill into the ink and then moved to start writing.

He could think of no suitable reply. So, instead, he sat and watched as the ink dripped slowly, steadily, onto the parchment and soaked into the paper, spreading and splashing as he wondered how any response could ever make up for the precious gift he had been given.

* * *

Harry had gone a little stir crazy by the time something actually happened. The problem was that he didn't have anything to distract himself with other than Potions lessons and Quidditch. Neither of which, at the moment, were topics that Harry wanted to think about.

Potions lessons, after Snape had met his dad, had gone from terrible to horrific. It had taken very little persuasion to find out that the topic his Dad and Snape had settled on to talk about during his and Kevin's absence. His own childhood. It was odd, really, that the teacher who despised him so much might be so interested in his childhood, but then he remembered that Snape used to be friends with his Mum, so maybe there was some sense behind it.

Harry was starting to think that Snape had fancied his Mum and had been jealous of his Dad James and that was why he hated Harry so much. The number of times he had been told that he was the spitting image of his father… but with Lily's eyes. And he had not been quite so recognisably his father's son when he was younger. That, at least, would explain why he had talked about Harry as a child, but his attitude towards him himself was becoming progressively worse.

The only satisfaction that Harry could gain from Potions lately was the fact that he had achieved perfect marks on the exams that had been set after the Easter Holidays. The exams were all marked by the teachers themselves, of course, but to create an unbiased scoring system, handwriting charms were used and the teachers were not allowed to read the student's name. And so, Harry had received and Outstanding with several bonus points for his extended knowledge.

Lessons under Snape's critical eye had become intolerable. Harry could perform no less than perfectly every single lesson or face in numerous points taken from Ravenclaw and several nights' worth of detentions. Never mind sneezing, Harry could no longer _breathe _without it being criticised by Snape. He had written twice to Remus about this treatment, but his Dad had only passed it off as the usual childish exaggerations and not done anything about it. Harry could not tell Pads without running the risk of Pads storming straight into the castle and killing the basta- git. And he absolutely refused, just because of the principle of the thing, to ask his other teachers or, Merlin forbid, the Headmaster to stop Snape's behaviour.

And so he endured in silence, watching as both his own house mates and those in Hufflepuff started to fume about the Potions Master's treatment of Harry. He knew that they would not say anything either, because both houses, for different reasons, believed it was up to Harry to make that decision for or against action, but it was nice to know that Snape had so thoroughly alienated his students.

Quidditch, unfortunately, was also driving Harry batty. Ravenclaw had played several more games, of course, and they had, ultimately, lost. Not by losing any of their games - oh, no, Harry's speed and accuracy were too great for that - but because they had one their games so quickly that the only points they scored during the matches were when Harry caught the snitch. Because he always, without fail, caught the snitch within moments of the beginning of the game.

The captain had told Harry - told him and told him - not to go after it if he saw it that soon into the game. He told Harry to tease his opponents, to lead them in the wrong direction or to draw them into the path of a bludger. He had told Harry not to catch the snitch. And that was a task that Harry had found impossible.

He did not doubt that there were many people who were laughing at his idiocy at the moment, for having caught the snitch too soon _again_, but that flash of gold in his peripheral vision was like a siren call to Harry - one that he didn't know how to resist.

Which was why he was now spending an hour each and every evening being taught how _not_ to catch the snitch. Which, without question, was more frustrating than just sitting around waiting for Quirrell to do something. Something that was looking increasingly like it was not going to happen whilst the students were still in school, and there was no way Harry and his resistance could remain in school after the Summer Holidays began.

But then, on the last Monday evening before the end of term, Dumbledore left the school and Quirrell made his move.

Harry felt a tiny bit ashamed of how surprised he was at how quickly The Resistance sprung into action. For even if Quirrell's inaction had caused unrest, it gave them time to become properly organised - more than it had been during the first, rushed meeting. The students who were involved were no longer limited to Year or House boundaries, as that seemed to disappear at the thought of doing something worthwhile towards the protection of the school.

Fred and George now headed a small, fairly elite group of students from all of the first three years that had become the spy network for The Resistance. The second years Harry had spoken to about ways of contacting one another - the leader of whom Harry had learnt was a Slytherin by the name of Charlie Warrington who, despite his bullish looks, had an incredible recall for facts - now also ran a group of intelligence gatherers, although this intelligence was found in books and then promptly put to use in various inventions that might or might not help The Resistance. Their founding had sparked a new wave of pranks across the school, for which Harry was grateful for as it drew the teacher's attention away from him.

On top of the spies and the inventors there were the guards - led by Justin, Ernie and Seamus, as Harry had requested - and, of course, Harry's elite group of seven, plus himself, who each put their efforts towards each of the other sections and also worked together to improve their own spell knowledge. The name "The Resistance" hadn't been thought up by any one person, it had simply come into existence. Even though no one knew entirely what it was they were resisting. Either way the project - the thought of being part of something bigger and more important than themselves, sent shivers of excitement down a lot of backs until everyone was on tenterhooks by the time action finally arrived.

It was thrilling in many ways to see an organisation he'd spent the last two months setting up and putting into action - no matter how unplanned it had all been - finally doing what it had been made to do. The response of the spy network was so fast that Harry and the rest of his elite actually watched as Dumbledore took the last step off of Hogwarts' grounds and disapparated. It was not so fast as to stop Quirrell from entering the third floor corridor where Fluffy resided, but it only took one prank of the twins for McGonagall to inform them that Dumbledore had left the building and that they should think themselves lucky for not having to face _that_ consequence.

A little of their usual insolence and they knew that Dumbledore had received an urgent owl from the "Ministry". Judging by the speed in which Quirrell had acted, no one needed to be told that it was he and not the Ministry who had sent it.

Very promptly the guards were at their stations around the third floor corridor and Charlie was setting Harry and his team up with the various devices that had been created over the past two months, along with old classics.

'Dung bombs, smoke bombs, fireworks,' Charlie had said, pointing to each of the items on the utility belts as he handed them over. 'Expanding nets that'll sense what you want to trap, but probably aren't strong enough to hold a grown man, unfortunately. Blister bombs that you throw at someone and they come up in blisters and, uh, blobs.'

Harry raised an eyebrow and the Second Year blushed. 'We didn't think up a proper name, so they were nicknamed "blobs" and it stuck,' he sniggered, then continued. 'You chuck them at someone and they just stick to them. And grow. And grow. They won't stop movement or restrict breathing, but they will slow down your opponent significantly.'

'Right, blobs,' Harry had agreed, then thanked Charlie and led the other seven up to where Seamus, Justin and Ernie were waiting for them, at the entrance to Fluffy's room.

'Good luck,' Harry murmured to everyone and they murmured it back.

Then he unlocked the door and strode in, wand at the ready and the incantation for a piece of music already on the tip of his lips. To find Fluffy already in a deep slumber and harp playing peacefully in one corner. Harry let out a long breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding and signalled to the others that it was safe to come into the room, they followed one by one and stood like sentries along the wall.

'Hey, I know this tune,' Seamus said, loud enough to make everyone else wince. Then, to everyone's astonishment, he lowered his voice to a more reasonable decibel and started to sing the words softly to himself, his accent more pronounced at his rendition of what was, quite obviously, a traditional Irish piece of music.

Harry shook his head in exasperation, but just shrugged at the others. 'It still counts as music, I guess,' he told the others. 'So it won't do any harm. Here, help me move her paw, will you?'

And the other First Years leapt into action and moved in closer to help move the giant paw off the trap door with as little disturbance to the Cerberus as possible.

It was only when Fluffy let out a low pitched whine and snuffled that Hermione raised her head suddenly and asked, 'Does it seem a little… quiet to you?'

They turned to look at the harp that had been playing quietly in the corner and gulped - almost as one - when they saw that the strings were no longer plucking themselves.

'Seamus, whatever you do,' Stephen muttered loud enough that the Irish boy still standing guard by the door might hear him, but not stop his tune. 'Do not stop singing.'

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_AN: Woot! More chapter. And so soon. You will be pleased to note that I have some time off currently (I think I mentioned that?) and thus have more time to spend on the story. I am aiming at writing one chapter a day, which I have so far kept to, but will only post every other day in the hope that, even when my current streak of inspiration does dry up the chapters won't suddenly come once a month at the most. _

_On a different note: I realise there are a couple of inaccuracies in this chapter in concern to it being canon, but I'm doing my best to accommodate both the original plot line and my own version. Just think of "The Resistance" as the DA come five years early. And less reluctantly. Also, I really wanted a Hufflepuff or Slytherin second year but I could find no one. The dates for C. Warrington are either first year beginning 1989 or 88, which would place him as third or fourth year instead of second year at this point but… screw that. I needed a name. And I'm rubbish at coming up with names. Thus, another Charlie. But, hey, 'Charles' is a common enough name, isn't it? _

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter, much love  
Cal  
xxx_

_PS. The students in the same year as Harry are as follows:  
__**Ravenclaw: **__Harry Potter (m), Stephen Cornfoot (m), Kevin Entwhistle (m), Anthony Goldstein (m), Michael Corner (m), Terry Boot (m), Lisa Turpin (f), Mandy Brocklehurst (f), Su Li (f), Morag MacDougal (f), Padma Patil (f)  
__**Slytherin: **__Draco Malfoy (m), Theodore Nott (m), Blaise Zabini (m, for christ's sakes, whoever thought this guy was female, even when his sex wasn't identified is daft), Gregory Goyle (m), Vincent Crabbe (m), Millicent Bulstrode (f), Daphne Greengrass (f), Pansy Parkinson (f), Tracey Davis (f)  
__**Hufflepuff: **__Justin Finch-Fletchley (m), Wayne Hopkins (m), Ernie Macmillan (m), Hannah Abbott (f), Susan Bones (f), Megan Jones (f)  
__**Gryffindor: **__Ron Weasley (m), Seamus Finnegan (m), Dean Thomas (m), Neville Long bottom (m), Hermione Granger (f), Parvati Patil (f), Lavender Brown (f)  
**34 total**_

_There is debate about the existence of two further Gryffindor girls, but we never hear of them directly in the books, so I'm going to ignore them. All this information comes from the HP Lexicon, so feel free to check it out if you have the time and inclination._

_C, x_


	15. Of Trapdoors and Sacrifices

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will, hell, I can't even take much credit for the plotline of this fic. Any and all mistakes are mine. Unfortunately.**

**NB: Uh… killer-plants, evil flying keys, chess and logic. You know. The whole Philosopher's Stone drill.**

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_**Chapter Fourteen: Of Trapdoors and Sacrifices**_

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'She was a fish-monger, but sure 'twas no wonder,  
For so were her father and mother before.  
And they each wheeled their barrow,  
Through streets broad and narrow,  
Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!  
Alive, alive-O! alive, alive-O!  
Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!' Seamus' soft, off-key Irish accent quietly sang out the words of the song, his voice higher pitched now than it had been a moment ago with the knowledge that it was he who was keeping the giant three-headed dog asleep.

Harry and Ernie struggled on one side of Fluffy's paw, managing to half lift, half drag it backwards between them, Ron and Justin pushing from the other side. As soon as it was clear of the trapdoor Hermione and Theodore pressed forward and flipped it open, gazing blankly down into the darkness.

'What's there?' Harry whispered, clambering past the great beast's limbs to stand beside them at the trapdoor.

'Nothing,' Ron murmured back. 'Just black - there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop.'

In almost scary synchronisation, Draco and Theo rolled their eyes. 'Please,' Draco hissed, 'You Gryffindors, blundering straight into things. If we take a rock and drop it, we can listen to how long it takes for it to fall and how it lands, so we have some idea of how far it is and whether we would, by jumping in, fall to our doom.'

At that, Theo kicked a stone down the pit and the first years all listened intently to the silence coming from beyond the trapdoor, until it landed with a soft thump.

'I think,' Hermione said under her breath, 'That it is safe to say the fall won't kill us. The wait wasn't too long and the landing sounds soft.'

Draco snorted, 'You first, Miss Gryffindor.'

This time it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes which she did so expertly and still managing to remain looking down her nose at Draco. 'Oh, honestly,' she muttered, before taking a dignified step forward and disappearing from sight.

The wait seemed to be longer this time, but another, slightly louder thump was heard along with an 'oof' of quickly exhaled breath.

'Hermione?' Ron called down nervously. 'Are you alright?'

'I'm fine,' she responded, sounding indignant, almost, about the questioning over her health. A muttered, 'Wimps,' soon followed.

Harry turned to Ernie, Justin and Seamus and nodded to each of them. 'Keep an eye out, won't you?'

'Of course,' Ernie and Justin replied, affronted.

'Now go,' Justin added.

One by one, Draco, Stephen, Ron, Neville, Susan, Theo and, finally, Harry, all stepped into the darkness. Once they were all down the trapdoor, Ernie shut the door and led the others from the room, Seamus collapsing with relief on the other side of the door.

'I don't even _like_ singing,' he moaned. 'I'm never doing that again.'

At the bottom of the pit the first years were listening with growing horror as Neville explained what, exactly, it was they'd landed on.

'Devil's Snare,' Neville said, for some reason cheerful, even _excited_ about having the opportunity of sitting on such a plant. 'It uses its creepers and tendrils to ensnare anyone who touches it, binding their arms and legs and eventually choking them - isn't it fascinating? The more you struggle against it, the more quickly and tightly it binds you. It doesn't kill as quickly if you relax. It prefers a dark, damp environment, of course, so this place is perfect-'

'How is that "fascinating"?!' Ron screeched, his freckles standing out in sharp contrast to his suddenly very pale skin. 'Thanks so much for telling us _exactly how we're going to die_!'

'But-'

'Harry-bloody-Potter!' This time it was Draco who was doing the screeching. 'This is you fault! If you had just buggared off when you found out my name I'd have never been in this stupid situation in the first place!'

'Could you-'

Susan, the only Hufflepuff and somewhat fainter of heart that the others, burst into tears as Ron and Draco started yelling more and more disgusting ways of them being killed by the plant.

Then Neville disappeared and a new bout of hysterics broke out as everyone thought the first of their number had died.

Then a burst of very bright, very white light came from beneath them and everyone lost their breath as they fell the final few feet to the stone floor that was the true bottom of the pit beneath Fluffy's trapdoor.

Neville huffed and scowled at them in their sudden silence. 'As I was saying,' he thundered. 'It prefers dark, damp environments, so if you shoot any sort of a bright light at it, it recoils and tries to protect itself, giving up its prey.'

The others all bowed their heads, thoroughly ashamed of their behaviour. Hermione in particular looked rather guilty, as though it should have been she who had come up with all the answers. That was, until Harry leaned over and reminded her of Draco and Ron's behaviour. Then she smiled again.

'OK, thank you, Neville. Could you, Susan and Theo stay here and try and work out a way of getting all of us safely back up the tunnel?' Harry asked, looking to each of those he named. He'd told them before that they would stay with him until their skill was needed, but judging from Susan's reaction when they landed on the Devil's Snare, it would be best not to take her with them. And Theo _was _the best at Charms, so he would be the best for spelling a way to safety for them.

The three all nodded their heads, Susan looking a little relieved that she wouldn't have to face more uncertainty, but more relieved that Ron and Draco weren't also staying behind. Harry winked at her and rolled his eyes towards Ron and Draco and she giggled quietly, relaxing more.

Then he turned and led the others further into the inky blackness, the only lights the occasional wall sconce flickering dimly with the damp kindling. Instinctively, the five of them clustered together and walked tight along the left-hand wall though none of them realised the behaviour in themselves. Before too long, however, the corridor widened and brightened slightly, the light becoming a tad steadier and a faint humming noise filled the air.

They each exchanged glances with the others before, with Harry once again in the lead, braving the final turning and entering a room that might once have been a classroom, but for the lack of furniture and the difficulty in getting to it. There was a large wooden door at the far end of the room and several broomsticks propped against the wall next to it. Hermione, Ron and Stephen all moved towards the door, taking turns to shoot spells at it, in the vain hope it might open. Meanwhile, Draco and Harry were gazing speculatively at the broomsticks, once in a while glancing up at the strange insect-like things that buzzed above their heads.

'I can't get it open!' Hermione snapped in frustration, banging her fist against the door before resting her forehead against the spell-scorched surface. 'None of the spells are working and even the Twins' fireworks only made the door shake a little.'

'I think, Granger,' Draco said, staring upwards, 'That this may be simpler than that.'

'What?' Ron barked, eager for any reason to argue with Draco.

Draco gave Ron a plaintive stare. 'What does one need to open a lock?' he asked, before nodding back up at the flying things. 'A key,' he answered himself.

Harry bit his lip and looked across at Stephen, 'This is so not going to help my training,' he moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Stephen laughed and explained to the others, who were watching curiously, 'The captain's got Harry doing training everyday on how _not_ to catch the snitch.' Ron and Draco laughed with him, but Hermione just turned her eyes to the ceiling: a picture of exasperation.

'Well get on with it, then,' Hermione snapped, causing the others all to glare at her. Glaring steadfastly back she waited. 'You're looking for a big, old-fashioned one - probably silver, like the handle.'

Harry grabbed the least-battered looking broom and jumped on. Less than a second later, though, he was swarmed by the keys, all attacking and scratching him viciously. Harry left out a little cry of surprise before darting away from them, having little chance to look at the keys themselves in the attempt to get away from them.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's racing from the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole. Quickly changing direction, he darted back through the cloud of keys, causing the others to cry out more than they had been before.

'That one!' he called to them. 'That big one - there - no, there - with bright blue wings - the feathers are all crumpled on one side.' The key dodged in front of him, the other keys all attacking him furiously. Harry herded the right key towards the doorway, where the others were 'Ready?' he yelled.

'Yeah,' Draco shouted out in glee as he snatched the key from the air and stuffed it into the door, unlocking it and shoving everyone through. 'Harry?' he asked.

'Get ready to slam it!' he warned, racing back towards the door, the keys mere feet behind him. The next second, Harry and the broom were through the door, Draco had slammed it and the sound of hundreds of keys thudding into the other side filtered through the wood.

The next chamber that they were in was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped further into the room, light flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight: They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. The first years shivered slightly - the towering white chessmen had no faces.

'Now what do we do?' Stephen whispered.

'It's obvious, isn't it?' said Ron. 'We've got to play our way across the room.'

'But I'm terrible at chess,' the Ravenclaw moaned pitifully. 'And Harry's even worse.'

'Yes, but the Weasel is supposed to be good,' Draco drawled. 'And I myself am not bad.'

Ignoring them, Hermione asked a more important question; 'How?'

'I think,' said Ron, 'We're going to have to be chessmen.' He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron. 'Do we - er - have to join you to get across?'

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the others. 'This wants thinking about…' he said. 'I suppose we've got to take the place of five of the black pieces…'

The others remained silent, watching Ron think. Even Draco was not preparing to argue with the red-head, understanding that this challenge was Ron's and that any disruption could only leave all of them at a disadvantage.

Soon enough, Ron told the others where to go, taking the place of a knight himself. The black pieces seemed to have been listening, because the pieces the first years would take the place of moved silently off the board leaving the empty squares, where they all moved to, reluctantly.

'What now?' Stephen murmured, still too scared to raise his voice any further than that.

'Well white always goes first and then… we play,' Ron said, with a strange, deadly sort of finality.

A white pawn had moved forward two squares and Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them, the only noise the grating of stone across stone or footsteps as they moved about the board. No one dared to say anything, other than Ron. What if they lost?

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, face down.

'Had to let that happen,' said Ron, looking shaken. 'Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on.'

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Stephen were in danger. He himself darted about the board taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

'We're nearly there,' he muttered suddenly. 'Let me think - let me think…'

The white queen turned her blank face towards him.

'Yes…' said Ron softly. 'It's the only way… I've got to be taken.'

'NO!' Hermione shouted, the other first years paling and shaking their heads.

'But that's chess,' Draco murmured.

'Exactly,' Ron said, for once in utter agreement with the Slytherin. 'You've got to make sacrifices. I take one step forwards and she'll take me - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry.'

Harry glared furiously at the white pieces, daring them to try anything. What a choice! 'Ron-' he started.

He was cut off. 'No, Harry. There's no other way. Look, if you don't hurry up, Snape or Quirrell will already have the Stone.'

No one said anything.

'OK,' Harry said finally, as though he were signing his friend's death warrant.

'Don't hang around once you've won,' Ron told them, his face pale but determined. He stepped forward and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard around the head with her stone arm and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed but stayed on her square - the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. 'Checkmate,' he stated, clearly.

The white king took off his crown an threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear.

Glancing across at Ron, Harry nodded to himself. 'Stephen, can you take Ron back to the others?' he asked. 'I don't want to run the risk of just leaving him there.'

'Alright,' Stephen said, before looking each of the remaining three in the eye. 'Good luck.'

Then Harry, Hermione and Draco ducked forward into the next corridor, leaving Stephen to tend to Ron.

'All right?' Harry murmured to the others as they continued down the hall.

'Just shut up, Potter,' Draco said with no real venom in his tone. Hermione just nodded mutely, still very pale and a worry line settled between her eyebrows.

After a moment they reached another door, which Harry pushed slowly open. A disgusting smell filled their nostils, making all three of them pull their noses up over their noses. Eye watering they saw, flat on the floor in front of them. A troll even larger than the one that had been accidentally locked into the girl's bathroom at Halloween, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

'I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one,' Harry whispered, causing Draco to swirl around and face him nose-to-nose.

'What do you mean, '_that one_'? Were you involved with the mysterious fact the troll at Halloween was knocked out before the teachers even got there?' he demanded to know.

'Possibly,' Harry responded as he stepped past Draco and over one of the troll's massive legs.

'And you didn't tell me?' Draco cried out exasperatedly, lowering his voice when the troll twitched in response to the volume. 'You owe me a damn good explanation.'

'Oh come _on_ Draco,' Harry moaned from the next doorway, waving the blonde closer. 'I don't know about you but I can't breathe.'

Draco sneered at the troll and made his way, too, to the door, a thought occurring to him as they shut the door - and most of the smell - behind them. 'You!' he cried, pointing at Hermione. 'You knew!'

Hermione mirrored his sneer back at him, catching the Slytherin off-guard. 'I was in the toilet they decided to lock the troll into.'

'Oh,' he said, then the three of them continued in silence.

Harry pulled open the next door, hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

'Snape's,' said Harry. 'What do we have to do?'

They stepped over the threshold and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't an ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onwards. They were trapped.

'Look!' Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry and Draco looked over her shoulders to read it.

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
__Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
__One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
__Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
__Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
__Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
__Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,  
__To help you with your choice, we give you these clues four:  
__First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
__You will always finds some, on nettle wine's left side;  
__Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
__But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;  
__Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
__Neither dwarf nor giant hols death in their insides;  
__Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
__Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

'_Brilliant_,' said Hermione. 'This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever.'

'Don't say that Granger!' Draco moaned. 'I don't want to live in a hole!'

Hermione snorted. 'Of course you won't. Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us back through the purple.'

'But how do we know which to drink?' Draco demanded

'Give me a minute,' Hermione snapped back, before turning her attention back to the paper, reading it several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands and looked up at the boys, eyes bright. 'I've got it.'

_

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_

AN: Urgh. I feel dirty. I do not like copying someone else's work, especially a style that is so different to my own. Even if it isn't obvious to you guys, it is to me and I hate it. JKR has several annoying habits that I didn't even notice until I was writing it as well. As such, this isn't exactly the same - well obviously not, since there are more of them - but there is a significant proportion of text that is from the original book. I apologise for this, but, well, I'm bored. I want to move onto the summer hols already.

_New chapters coming ASAP, although this time there are no promises on when, considering how terribly that went last time._

_Much love  
__Cal  
__xx_

_PS Just as a point of interest - this _is_ the 'Philosopher's Stone' not the 'Sorcerer's Stone'. You Americans are dead weird. No offence._

_PPS 'Molly Malone' is the only Irish folk song I know. So, uh, yeah. _


	16. Of Quirrell and Quarrels

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will, hell, I can't even take much credit for the plotline of this fic. Any and all mistakes are mine. Unfortunately.**

**NB: Harry kills some bloke in a purple turban. Go figure.**

_**

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Chapter Fifteen: Of Quirrell and Quarrels

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Harry and Draco exchanged a look, then glanced nervously at the potions bottles.

'Are you sure?' Draco asked.

Hermione nodded. 'The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire - towards the Stone.'

Harry looked at the tiny bottle. 'There's only enough there for one of us,' he said. 'That's hardly one swallow.'

Draco coughed nervously. 'Which one will get us back through the purple flames?'

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

'You drink that,' said Harry. 'No, listen - get back and get the others - take them back to Neville, Theo and Susan, hopefully they'll have a way out by now. Then go straight to the dungeons and get Snape, he might be git but he was trying to stop Quirrell and we need him. I might be able to hold him off for a while, but I'm no defence against a Defence teacher.'

'Snape'll help,' Draco said quietly. 'He's my godfather and he'll do what I tell him.'

Hermione spared Draco a strange look, but then turned back to Harry. 'But Harry - what if… what if You-Know-Who is with him?'

'Voldemort, Hermione,' Harry scolded lightly. 'And, well - I was lucky once, wasn't I?' said Harry, pointing to his scar. 'I might get lucky again.'

Hermione's lip trembled and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

'Urgh, Gryffindors!' snorted Draco in disgust, throwing his hands in the air and wrinkling his nose.

'Harry - you're a great wizard, you know.'

Harry smirked and ducked his head, gazing up mischievously through his fringe. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I know.' and neatly ducked the light blow Hermione aimed at the back of his head.

Hermione hugged Harry again tightly, then abruptly let him go. 'You take care, won't you?'

'I still have all of the Twin's tricks on me,' Harry reassured her. 'I'll be fine.'

'Whatever you say, Potter,' Draco said, slapping him on the shoulder. 'You die in there, I'll be the first to say "I told you so".'

'Wouldn't want it any other way. Now, you two drink first.'

Hermione picked up the bottle she'd indicated would take them back and drank some, shuddering as she did so.

'It's not poison?' Draco asked anxiously as he took the bottle from her and eyed it warily.

'No - but it's like ice.'

Nodding, the blonde drank as well and together they turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames. 'Here I come,' he said and he drained the bottle in one gulp. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body but didn't feel them - for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire - then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

The mirror of Erised, that had so captivated Kevin, stood in the centre of the room and before it stood Quirrell, tracing the frame with the tips of his fingers and occasionally waving his wand and shooting a spell at the unresponding gilt surface.

Silently, Harry walked down the steps and reached towards the utility belt that contained the various methods of attack and defence the twins and Charlie had given him, until ropes started sneaking across his wrists and ankles, so he tripped and fell heavily to the floor, unable to move.

'I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter,' Quirrell said without turning round. 'You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school all the time, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone at Hallowe'en.'

With some difficulty, since he'd landed on his front, Harry spat in the general direction of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. 'Oh, I know. You got into a pretty little argument with Snape then, didn't you? You know you should both be more subtle about what words and names you throw about in public places.'

'Hmm,' Quirrell murmured noncommittally. 'And not only did the troll fail to beat you to death, that three headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.'

'Aw, well, damn,' Harry shot back at him sarcastically. 'You're not going to tell me all of your dastardly plans, shoot a laser at me and tell me "No, mees-tair Potter, I expect you to die!"?'*

Quirrell shot an odd look at Harry, not understanding the muggle reference, and returned his gaze to the mirror. 'This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,' Quirrell murmured, tapping at the frame with his wand again. 'Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… But he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back.'

Harry snorted and averted his gaze. 'Yeah. Because _Dumbledore's_ the scary one.'

The Defence professor seemed to be ignoring him, but Harry carried on talking anyway. 'I'd be more worried about - hell, even Flitwick. You haven't seen him go off on the Ravenclaws when they mess up. He may be tiny, but lordy, what a temper! And down here, Quirrell… down here no one will care who kills you. My friends have gone back to get the teachers and when they arrive… I wonder who'll get the first shot in? McGonagall is one scary witch and considering Sprout's surprise, I bet she has a trick or two up her sleeve as well. And Snape, of course, has been trying to get a piece of you all year.'

Quirrell finally turned, a terrifying smile splitting his face as demented eyes bored into Harry's own. 'Yes, they all suspect something, don't they? But how many of them could really kill? How many would stand up to the wrath of Voldemort. For my lord is with me, all the time.' Quirrell turned away, again, but carried on talking.

'He is with me wherever I go,' Quirrell said quietly. 'I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, filled with ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it… Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me.' Quirrell shivered suddenly. 'He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…'

Quirrell's voice trailed away, then cursed under his breath.

'I don't understand. Is the Stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?'

Harry's mind was racing. What he wanted more than anything else in the world at that moment was to find the Stone before Quirrell did. So, Harry figured, if he looked into the mirror he would see himself finding it, which would mean he'd know where it was hidden - but how to look in the mirror without Quirrell noticing what he was up to?

'What does the mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!'

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself, though his lips did not move.

'Use the boy… use the boy…'

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

'Yes - Potter - come here.' He clapped his hands once and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet.

'Come here,' Quirrell repeated. 'Look in the Mirror and tell me what you see.'

Harry walked slowly towards him, thinking desperately of a lie that he could tell that would plausibly explain what he'd see.

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the Mirror and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket - and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow - incredibly - _he'd got the Stone_.

'Well?' said Quirrell impatiently. 'What do you see?'

Harry screwed up his courage, mind searching wildly for the dreams that he'd had when he was younger - that he still had.

'I see my dad standing beside me, stronger, happier. He isn't fighting with his wolf anymore. He's at peace with who - and what - he is.'

Quirrell cursed again.

'Get out of the way,' he said. As Harry moved aside he felt the Philosopher's Stone against his leg. The Twins' ammunition belt weighed heavily around his hips and he moved one arm as casually as he could in front of him, as though he were hugging his own waist. The "blobs" were just beyond his reach and he wondered if he dared reach a little further, out of his appearance of casual apathy to reach them.

But he had no more moved an inch when a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips. 'He lies… He lies…'

'Tell me the truth, Potter!' Quirrell shouted. 'What did you just see?'

The high voice spoke again, 'Let me speak to him… face to face…'

'Master you are not strong enough!'

'I have strength enough… for this…'

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away, leaving Quirrell's head looking strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

'Harry Potter…' it whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backwards, but his legs wouldn't move.

'See what I have become?' the face said. 'Mere shadow and vapour… I have form only when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the Forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… Now… why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?'

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backwards, fingers numbly trying to release the catch on one of the blobs at his utility belt, but having little success.

'Don't be a fool,' snarled the face. 'Better save your own life and join me… or you'll meet the same end as your parents… They died begging me for mercy…' Quirrell was walking backwards at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

White hot anger coursed through Harry's veins and he bit down hard on his lip to keep from yelling obscenities at the bodiless monster. He knew what happened that day, had heard enough tales of his parents from his Dad and Pads to know that, if nothing else, they went down fighting. That someone might lie about that appalled him. His fingers were suddenly much more sure of themselves and the catch was free.

Voldemort caught the movement of his hand out of the corner of his eye and let out an animalistic shriek. 'SEIZE HIM!' and, next second, two thing happened simultaneously. The Blob in Harry's hand was released and splodged against Quirrell's side, as the teacher turned and lunged towards him.

Quirrell's hand closed around Harry's neck even as Voldemort continued screaming; 'Seize him! SEIZE HIM!' Harry's scar was burning, searing hot at his forehead and it was all he could do not to flinch away from the pain and huddle into a ball, to cry for relief. But he would not allow himself to. Certainly not as the Blob began to grow and restrict Quirrell's movement.

Then the hand around Harry's throat loosened. It had dried and hardened and, as Harry broke away, it crumbled completely to dust. Unthinking, desperate just for this madness to end, Harry was the one who lurched forward this time. His hands sought out Quirrell's face and he clasped the Professor's head to him.

Those features, timid then cruel, harmless then dangerous, turned grey. They dried and cracked and it was only when Quirrell's nose fell off that Harry realised what he was doing and recoiled instantly. But it was far too late. Quirrell's head was already entirely made of that grey, decaying substance that cracked and shattered and faded to dust.

Voldemort's soul screamed and hissed and was forced from the body. Harry paid no mind to where it went, only seeing over and over as Quirrell's face, contorted in pain and fear, broke beneath his fingers and fell through them like sand.

"'How many of them could really kill?'." Quirrell had asked him, referring to the teachers. Harry didn't know. He thought they all might, maybe. But he - he had never considered the possibility of himself killing. Of his own hands being tainted with the blood of another, no matter what final result it might have. Stopping the Dark Lord from rising seemed like a mighty good reason, but still…

That look in Quirrell's eyes… so much fear, so much pain. And some, vague look of relief, hidden behind the mask that Voldemort had presented him with. Harry wondered if Quirrell had ever actually believed and of that no good or evil nonsense. Whether he thought himself one of those willing to take power. One of those capable of. Harry wondered if Quirrell had not been as innocent in this as anyone else. He hoped that he might have freed the older man. He hoped that there was no other way it could have happened.

And still, the dying man's face lingered in his mind's eye and he fell to the floor, wrapped his arms around his legs, dropped his head to his knees and, rocking slightly to an internal rhythm only he could hear, Harry wept. For he was eleven years old and he had just killed a man.

_

* * *

_

*James Bond, Gold Finger. I was going to take another crack at you Americans for not getting the British sense of humour, but since your last response of 'they cater to the minority' I don't dare. I'm sure you're all lovely people really. I have nothing against Americans, you just have a stereotype that's incredibly easy to pick fun at. Not that we English are much better. Tally ho, I say old chaps, cups of tea, etc, etc. Stereotypes (and tea) are great :D

_AN: omg! I'm so sorry this has taken so long, my internet has been playing me for a fool. I finally managed to sort it out yesterday, so I logged on and read the previous chapter to this, so I could start writing this one. The majority of it is just copied straight from the book (which I feel incredibly guilty about, FYI) but that a happy writer does not make. Nor a long chapter. The next one makes up for it length-wise I promise. I have the next two chapters after this finished, though, so they will be uploaded every other day. I can't promise beyond that, but there you go. Thank you for your patience and I apologise for these appalling delays._

_Cal_

_PS The whole 'give me that stone in your pocket' bit? Yeah, I __**so**__ wanted Voldy to ask 'Is that a stone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?' XD I thought that might have been a bit __**too**__ OOC though._


	17. Of Hospitals and Feasts

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will, hell, I can't even take much credit for the plotline of this fic. Any and all mistakes are mine. Unfortunately.**

**NB: Beware the Dumbly bashing…**

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Chapter Sixteen: Of Hospitals and Feasts

* * *

The rest of that evening was a blur to Harry. Half blind with disgust for himself and fear over what he had become and crying hysterically. He recalled only distantly the fires surrounding the chamber flickering out, leaving only the wall caskets burning. There were voices, too many voices, pushing into his consciousness, surrounding him with a curious mix of stifling concern and distant scorn.

Occasionally a face belonging to one of those many voices would appear in his line of sight and clear momentarily, striking a clear, high note of familiarity in the part of his brain that struggled to remain present. Then the face would talk and he would not be able to tell which voice belonged to the face and hysteria would shake him again and he turned his face from them, longing for quiet, for an end to this strange, mad torment.

Eventually, one of the voices - the least concerned and the most scornful - lost patience and uttered a spell that allowed the creeping darkness at the edges of Harry's vision swallow him completely and sink him into grateful solitude. Just before he fell, a spark of appreciation lit his face and he tried to smile at whoever had sent the spell at him. But overcome with grief and unable to tell where each voice came from, the smile never reached his face, let alone the sight of the one it was intended for.

When Harry woke again he felt stiff, as though he had been lying still for a very long time. He did not open his eyes immediately, only lay there and waited. His neck ached a little because the pillows were too stiff and had bent his neck slightly awkwardly. The temperature was strange. Harry could tell it was artificially produced because it was the same, precise temperature that his Dad used when he fell ill as a child. A temperature magically proven to be optimal in the healing process. That struck Harry as odd.

He could remember quite clearly everything that had happened the previous evening. Or, at least, he presumed it was the previous evening. One thing that he certainly could not remember was being hurt, and he could see no other reason as to why he'd be in the Hospital Wing - which he had deduced must be where he was. He could remember great confusion after Voldemort had been swept away, but that was after the danger had passed, and Harry could not think of any reason why he'd have been hurt then.

'I know you're awake, Potter,' a familiar acerbic tone sliced through his consciousness and almost made Harry smile. If there was one thing he could always be totally reliant upon, it was Snape's distaste for him.

Knowing that the Professor would not stand for the childish response of "no, I'm not" Harry opened his eyes, winced, and shut them again.

'Could you turn the light down, sir?' Harry rasped out, surprised at how thick his voice was, as though it had not been used for days. Surely he had not been out that long?

There was a pause and a swish of wood through air that Harry had come to recognise as a wand flick, then Snape said, 'There, satisfied?'

Harry tentatively opened his eyes and blinked in shock at the piles of sweet and cards on the table at one side of his bed. 'How long have I been out?' he asked.

'Three days. I am to tell the Headmaster when you wake, so if you'll excuse me-' Snape stood to leave and Harry made to grab his sleeve, but found his arms sluggish to respond.

'No, wait!' he called out, coughing as the words came reluctantly. 'Why have I been out so long?' he asked, determined to ask these questions at least of someone who would not treat him like a boy soldier and a tool.

'You had three broken ribs, a twisted ankle and a catalogue of bruises and spell burns. It was decided that you would recover faster if you were allowed to sleep through their healing,' Snape snapped out, answering his questions, but eager to escape the dreary surroundings.

'No I didn't,' Harry said immediately, forgetting momentarily to whom he was speaking. 'Quirrell tried to strangle me, so I suppose I might have bruises on my throat, but the only spell he used was one to tie my hands together. The only pain I felt was through the scar when I saw Voldemort.'

Snape regarded him coldly a moment through emotionless black eyes. 'I saw your file, Potter. Madam Pomfrey is exceedingly skilled at her job. Trust me when I say, you had those injuries."

Thinking aloud, Harry asked, 'But if Quirrell did not give them to me, then who did?'

The Potions Master did not say anything, only continued to look long and hard into Harry's eyes. Then the man turned away in a great swirl of black robes and left the room, leaving Harry with a strange, heavy feeling that he was missing something. Something very important.

As soon as Snape left, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office to give him a quick scan and ask him a few questions, the majority of which he didn't know how to answer. He couldn't tell her where or how he'd got most of the injuries, because he did not recall ever receiving them. This clearly worried the Mediwitch, but she said nothing about it. Once she had finished her examination she told him that he could leave in time for that evening's meal in the Great Hall so long as he promised to come straight back afterwards and did not push himself too hard.

Dumbledore appeared like an unwelcome ghost at the end of his bed as soon as Madam Pomfrey had returned to her office.

'Good afternoon, Harry,' said Dumbledore.

Harry bit his tongue and glanced away, half burying his nose in the pillows and glaring at his get well cards as he tried to ignore the man at his side.

'Tokens from your friends and admirers,' said Dumbledore, beamingly, when he saw where Harry was looking. 'What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a lavatory seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it.'

'Sir,' Harry started to ask, but was cut off.

'Ah, now, I believe you want to know what happened to the Stone?' Dumbledore rambled on. Harry was not particularly interested in the Stone as knew he had saved it, but since the Headmaster seemed persistent in leading the conversation, Harry let him continue. 'Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say.'

Harry stared at the headmaster, utterly dumbfounded. What was the old man larking on about? He could not remember seeing Dumbledore at all last night - three nights ago - let alone him fighting off Quirrell. Harry looked down at his hands that were fisted in his blankets and stretched them palm up as though he might still see the fading grey dust in the lines there. Quirrell had died before Dumbledore got there. Harry knew that, because he knew that he had been the one who had killed him.

'As for the Stone itself,' Dumbledore carried on, 'it has been destroyed.'

'Destroyed?' said Harry blankly. 'But Nicolas Flamel -' But Harry had saved the Stone, he _knew_ he had.

'Oh, you know about Nicolas?' said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. 'You _did_ do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat and agreed it's all for the best.'

Harry was disgusted. He dimly remembered being disgusted with himself after he had murdered Quirrell, and no small amount of that remained, but what Dumbledore had done, what he was saying… Harry had saved the Stone, and yet Dumbledore - or someone - had destroyed it, intentionally, and had purposefully killed two of the most brilliant minds in wizarding history. It was unthinkable! But he could be jumping to conclusions. Perhaps Dumbledore had had his chat with Nicolas and they had, together, decided that destroying the Stone would be for the best. Yes, surely that was it.

'To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, _very_ long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all - the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things which are worst for them.'

'And what about you, sir? What do you wish for most of all?'

Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling. 'A pair of thick, woollen socks,' he commented absently.

There was silence for a moment whilst Harry considered al the things that had happened to him in what had seemed to him to be a very short amount of time. 'Sir,' he said finally, mostly to stop the irritating, tuneless humming. 'Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?'

'No Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share… not being truly alive he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time - and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.'

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly because it made his head hurt. Then he said, 'Sir, there is one more thing I'd like to know, if you can tell me… something I want to know the truth about…'

'The truth.' Dumbledore sighed. 'It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your question unless I have a very great reason not to, in which case I will beg you to forgive me. I shall not, if course, lie.'

Harry was torn between amusement and irritation. That was a very longwinded way of saying "yes but only if I want to" and the number of lies Dumbledore had already told, even in the last fifteen minutes, made the last part of his declaration laughable.

'How did I get the Stone out of the Mirror?'

'Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to _find_ the Stone - find it, but not use it - would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking the Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes… Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them - but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?'

He popper the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, 'Alas! Earwax!'

As the Headmaster swept rapidly from the room, Harry speculated that he'd never been quite so grateful for a badly-flavoured bean in his life.

* * *

The day Harry awoke he had a stream of visitors coming and going, most anxious for his safety and well being, though a few who seemed a little disappointed.

After Dumbledore left the first to enter was Remus. His dad had pushed aside the curtain the had been drawn to offer some illusion of privacy and he had stood there and just stared at Harry for a long moment. The man seemed more worn out and tired than he usually did, his few grey hairs standing out in starker contrast than usual and the skin of his face stretched taught as though from worry. It was at that moment that Harry realised that his dad had of course been worried. Whilst to him it had seemed like only the evening before when the incident had happened, to the rest of the world he'd been out cold from his injuries for three days now.

In the next instant, his dad was by his side, clutching at his hand, pressing it hard against his lips, and then his cheek, cradling it to his face as though afraid it would be out of bounds to hold Harry himself so tenderly to his side. But Harry opened his arms and the werewolf pulled him upright, hugging him as tight as he dared and weeping softly into his shoulder.

'Oh my darling, darling child,' he whispered, so quiet Harry barely caught his words. 'I was so worried about you, when Professor Dumbledore told me what happened…'

'Lies,' Harry murmured back, just as quietly, but he knew his dad had heard. 'I'll tell you when we're away from whispering walls.'

Remus nodded and held Harry tightly still. 'Harry - I love you so much, you gave me - us - such a scare.'

Harry pulled back a little and smiled weakly. 'I love you too, dad,' he replied earnestly.

Remus smiled back, and tusked a loose strand of Harry's hair behind his ear. 'My son,' he murmured, again more to himself than to Harry. Nonetheless, Harry heard it and his smile turned real, his eyes sparkling a little again.

Their reunion was as short as it was sweet. The exchange of words seemed, to them, to seal the unofficial father-son bond they'd made, but it could not halt progress. As difficult as it was to find work as a werewolf, Remus could not spare too much time during the week days and he had left not long after he'd arrived to return to his job. After him, came Kevin and Stephen, both eager to hear what had happened and to tell what had been going on in the meantime.

'Snape's even more vindictive in class, since you've been gone,' Stephen said, his tone rushed and excited. 'I know he's always picking on you, Harry, but you're definitely his favourite. Ever since you've been gone it's "Even Potter could do better than that" and "You'd shame even the name of Potter, with that potion" even to some of the Hufflepuffs, and you know he rarely ever pays attention to them, except to tell them they're stirring the wrong way or whatever.'

'Of course, the entire school's a bit quieter with you gone,' Kevin put in. He, too, was more animated than usual. 'Half the Gryffindors are lamenting the loss of such a high end prankster - even though all you did was support the Weasley twins, the Hufflepuffs miss someone who treats them like an equal, the Slytherins are just fed up with Malfoy's muttering and pouting and of course we Ravenclaws-'

'Miss your genius!' Stephen finished with a great guffaw of laughter. 'You and your brains, Harry! We miss a study partner and a damn fine Quidditch player.'

'I already won the cup for you, Stephen,' Harry tried to grouse, though his heart wasn't in it, his heart speeding up just at the mention of Quidditch. 'What more do you want? I suppose you expect me to win the next World Cup for you?'

'In the name of Hogwarts!' Stephen cheered. 'We should enter a team. You could be captain, choosing the best players from all of the houses, and entering it for the World Cup! You'd be brilliant, bloody amazing! Never mind Great Britain, Scotland could enter a team made up just of school kids and we'd rock their socks off!'

Harry raised an amused eyebrow at the strange-sounding catch phrase coming from the pureblood's lips, but didn't question it.

But Kevin and Stephen were herded all too soon from the Hospital Wing, this time by an impatient Madam Pomfrey, rather than outside, more pressing matters. She shooed them out, insisting the Harry needed more rest, should he be well enough to leave healthy the following day. But moments later, Draco and his ever-present sidekicks appeared by his bedside.

'Harry!' the blonde boy said gleefully, upon seeing his friend awake and momentarily discarding the pureblood sense of decorum. 'You're awake!' and then he promptly flopped elegantly into one of the chairs.

'So it would seem,' Harry shot back dryly.

'Tsh,' Draco said dismissively. '_You're_ the boy-who-wouldn't-die. I knew that no measly Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor would ever get the better of you, Dark Lord sticking out of the back of his head or not.'

'He was possessed, Draco. By Voldemort. By the same Dark Lord whom your family are in allegiance with. Or were, at any rate.'

'Tsh,' said Draco again. 'Trivialities. My family owes no one loyalty but themselves.'

'Backstabbing purebloods,' Harry remarked, only half joking.

Draco looked at Harry sincerely. 'We honour family above all else, Harry. You're as a brother to me, so my loyalty to you is solid.'

Harry grinned widely. 'Brother, Draco?'

'Well…' Draco looked away, too awkward to look Harry in the eye, despite the half-teasing manner of their conversation. 'Second step-cousins sort of,' Draco said, glancing back up and smirking wickedly at the reminder of his and Harry's first conversation, back at the beginning of the year.

Harry laughed delightedly and reached out to slap Draco on the shoulder. 'Brother,' he said again. There was a moment of seriousness between the two boys, before Harry broke in with joviality again. 'You know that that means you have a werewolf as a sort-of father, right?'

Draco moaned and wilted back in his chair in a mock-faint. 'Nooooo,' he groaned. 'No, tell not these foul lies!'

'A big, bad werewolf who wouldn't hesitate to eat you alive, given half a chance!' Harry teased,before Madam Pomfrey burst in on them.

'Now what's all this moaning and groaning about?' she snapped irritably. 'I thought I told you no more visitors, Mr Potter? Out! Out with you,' she cried, half dragging the Malfoy heir from his seat and flinging him out of the screened off area.

As she was doing so, Goyle addressed Harry, 'Our loyalty is to Draco. So if his is to you, then so is ours.'

'Thank you,' said Harry, even as they, too, were dragged from the Hospital Wing. It was strange to know he had the loyalty of these two, thug-like boys, and yet pleasing, too. He pitied Crabbe and Goyle, always over shadowed by the greater intelligence, the greater power - both magically and politically - of their 'friend' Draco, whom Harry knew treated them ill. Better than others, perhaps, but not as well as they deserved.

But even as Madam Pomfrey shooed visitors from Harry's bedside, others persevered. Ron, Dean and Seamus. The Weasley twins and the confiscated toilet seat. Hermione and Su; a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw who had bonded over their mutual adoration of books. Susan and Neville. Justin and his friends. Anthony, Terry and Michael, the other Ravenclaw boys. The other Ravenclaw girls. The Head Boy. The Head Girl. The list went on and on.

Eventually Madam Pomfrey gave up trying to stop them. She shooed Harry out of bed and oushed him towards the Great Hall, with strict directions to return the moment the meal was over, or if he should feel any sort of dizziness or restriction of breath or anything. Harry didn't take the time even to roll his eyes before he jumped from the bed and hurriedly changed back into his school robes and racing out of the Hospital Wing.

'And no running!' Madam Pomfrey shouted after him with what seemed much like exasperated fondness.

When you considered the circumstance it was hardly surprising that Harry entered a few minutes late, after everyone had settled down and were waiting with quiet expectancy for their food to appear. Harry wasn't sure whether to be proud or ashamed of his dramatic entrance, especially considering within moments he was swamped by friends he had already seen earlier that day, hugging him and dragging him over to the Ravenclaw table. The cheers and whooping _did_ make Harry embarrassed, no questions asked.

When Dumbledore entered moments later, it seemed that food was likely to take even longer than usual to appear. For, one the Headmaster reached the Staff Table he began to address the hall.

'Another year gone!' Dumbledore said cheerfully. 'And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

'Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.'

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see that Draco Malfoy had, once again, foregone his cold-hearted bastard persona and was banging his goblet triumphantly on the table. It was an amusing sight.

'Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,' said Dumbledore. 'However, recent events must be taken into account.'

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

'Ahem,' said Dumbledore. 'I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

'First - to Mr Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house sixty points. Second - to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house sixty points. Third - to Mr Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Ravenclaw house seventy points. And finally, to Mr Neville Longbottom, for great bravery in the face of great adversity, I award Gryffindor house… forty points!'

There was uproar. The new points placed Ravenclaw in first, Gryffindor second, Slytherin third and Hufflepuff in last. Although the older Gryffindor and Ravenclaw years seemed content with this, the rest of the school was not. Ron had turned a funny purple colour that suggested he'd forgotten how to breath, whilst in contrast at the opposite end of the room, Draco had turned very, very pale. Harry sat in the middle of the hubbub absolutely furious.

He stood as the decorations changed colour and raised his hand for silence. Immediately, the hall quietened, each student and staff member curious as to what the hero of the hour would say.

'Yes, my boy? You have something to add?' Dumbledore asked, when it seemed as though Harry might just stand there and glower at him.

'Do you,' Harry said slowly, clearly, weighing and considering each word before he spoke it, 'always present such a prejudiced and bigoted face, Headmaster? Do you always only reward those who deserve, in your eyes, public recognition?' There was a pause as Harry glance about the hall. 'What about Susan Bones, Professor Dumbledore?' he asked.

Curious and slightly - though he'd never admit it - bewildered, Dumbledore answered with his own question, 'What about Susan Bones?'

'She managed, with great help from Theodore Nott, to transfigure and charm a safe route out of the dungeons. A route that you, yourself, used. Are you not going to award Hufflepuff or Slytherin any points?' This remark was met by silence. 'And what about Justin and Ernie? They were the ones who alerted you to the need to return to school. Or Seamus, who _tamed _a giant three-headed dog!'

'So long as he don't say how I tamed it…' Seamus muttered tightly to Ron, whose purple face had faded back to an almost-normal colour by now.

'How about the Weasley twins?' Harry continued, smothering a smile. 'Without them and their weird and wonderful inventions, I'd be dead. Or Charlie Warrington, without whom Quirrell would have taken the mirror and left before anyone knew something was wrong. You didn't award any points to Stephen Cornfoot, who managed to stop Ron from receiving any further injury by thinking, rather than just blundering in. And - now here's _my_ "finally", sir - finally, what about Draco Malfoy?'

A roar went up around the hall, some dismayed at the last name, others cheering Harry on.

'He stuck with me right up until there was no physical way for him to continue. He put aside a lifetime's worth of prejudices to be my friend and support me. If that's not worthy of some of your bloody "loyalty and friendship" house points I don't know what is!' Harry finished on a yell.

* * *

_AN: Yeee-haw! Told ya I had this chapter written already. Don't it finish on a high note? But first year's not over yet, we still have a couple more hours and a disgruntled Dumbledore to deal with (huh, alliteration!) And then we have a wonderful summer holiday to look forward to!… At Christmas. Shush._

_Anyways, I would very much like you peoples' opinions. There are two ways I can go about starting next school year. I don't mean plot-line-ish. I mean, should I continue all of Harry's school years as one great loooooong fiction, or should I split it up? As in, make 'Of Men and Monsters' a series title and have this and the rest of year one as 'book one' as it were, like JKR does it? This will have no effect on whether this story gets finished or not (it will be finished, one day…) If you guys don't tell me, I'll decide for myself. We're only a few chapters away from the end of this 'book' as it were._

_I love you guys! And please remember to feed the author! Reviews are muchly lovely. :D_

_Cal  
Xx_

_Ooooh! PS I have started a new WIP at TSSnet. If you darlings are over seventeen or the age of consent, whatever, GO HERE: www (dot) thesilversnitch (dot) net/tss1/view user (dot) php?uid=5462 and check out _'Til Death Do Us Part_. I'm not going to jinx it by putting it on this account, because every time I put two WIPs in one place, one of them shrivels and dies. It is Draco/Harry slash. *grin* enjoy…_

_C,x_


	18. Of Grades and Grudges

_Wow. So. This is awkward. Two years. Jeeeez. I am so very sorry. I'd say real life got in the way, but you're looking at the screen like *that*. You know how I mean. See! Hah! You're doing it right now. So I shall offer you no excuses and platitudes. Because that's what it'd be - excuses. And I shall simply say, instead, that I'm back. And I fully intend to see this story through to the end, long winded as it might be._

_For those of you reading the Welcome series - no. Just, no. I reread it and cringed. A lot. I had a lot of fun writing it, but I've moved past it now, I'm afraid, and I shan't be starting it up again. Of Men and Monsters, however, I will continue. Because it's fun. And also because I need to keep up my literary skills (or lack thereof)._

_Anyway, to get this rebirth off to an energetic start I'm going to be using it as a warm up for NaNoWriMo that starts in a week. Which means you should get another two chapters before I mostly-disappear for another month._

_Again, my sincerest apologies for abandoning you, my darling, darling readers/reviewers, and I hope that you welcome me back with open arms and not too many rotten tomatoes. Now, once more unto the breach, dear friends!_

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will, hell, I can't even take much credit for the plotline of this fic. Any and all mistakes are mine. Unfortunately.**

**NB: And we (finally) reach the end of the first year…**

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_**Chapter Seventeen: Of Grades and Grudges**_

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Harry Potter was something of a legend. He was an icon, a hero, a saviour. For many he was a great friend. For a few he was a beloved family member. For some he was an irritation that their lives could have done without. It was almost funny how, when it came down to it, Harry Potter was what Dumbledore and Voldemort had in common.

Dumbledore had tried to weasel his way out of giving points to everyone, but the Hogwarts student body, led by a ferocious Harry Potter, was not to be pacified. In the anarchy that ensued, there was no way to regulate the points that 'deserved' to be given and the House Cup, for the first time ever, was declared a draw by all four Houses. Flitwick and Sprout were delighted by this. McGonagall was sternly amused, but Snape… well. He looked to be enraged, but whether he was or not was anyone's guess.

It had been a good evening. The eleven to eighteen year olds had all been high on adrenaline, rebellion sending fear and excitement coursing through them until the entire student body was hyper-active. The Hall was louder than usual, the food seemed to taste better, the company seemed to be better and the teachers seemed less stern. Their hero was among them and had made it so every house had won, not just his own.

But, like any high, the low that followed it arrived with a vengeance. The exam results were passed out the following morning as everyone was packing and preparing to leave. Harry's weren't that bad, though he could do with some improvement in Transfiguration. Stephen's, too, were more than acceptable. All three boys were faced with a bit of a shock, however, when Kevin opened his. Whilst he was excelling in a couple of his classes and above average in the rest, his Potion's mark was abysmal. Harry bit his lip when he saw the small, cold little 'T' next to his friend's grade column.

All three of the boys had known that Kevin was about as good at Potions as he was at flying - that is, not at all - but that he had done so poorly astonished them. Kevin was the quietest, the sharpest of the three of them, with a hard-earned intellect that he was constantly studying to improve. And that he had done so badly next to Stephen's 'A' and Harry's 'O' came as a shock to them all.

Harry, particularly, felt guilty about it. He had spent so much time worrying about other things, about trying to get some tiny compliment, or at the very least an acknowledgement of his skills, from Professor Snape, he hadn't even noticed that his friend was failing.

'Look, mate, next year I promise that I'll lend you a hand, give you some tutoring in it,' Harry promised.

'Thanks Harry, but you really don't need to-' Kevin started, staring intently at the tips of his shoes.

'No, no, I insist,' Harry interrupted.

'You - you don't understand,' Kevin stopped him. 'I - they - I… Professor Snape said that anyone who got a 'T' had to redo the work next year.'

Stephen and Harry gaped at him. 'He's holding you back a year?' Stephen exclaimed. 'That bastard! I won't let him! I refuse to let some soured old over-grown bat hold you back. You've done brilliantly in all your other subjects, so it has to be his fault that you're doing so badly. Him and his non-existent teaching skills.'

'Kevin,' Harry added quietly, once Stephen's rant seemed to be over. 'I'm sorry for not helping you more. Come round mine for a week or two over the holidays - both of you. We'll give you some hard-core tutoring in Potions and get Snape to let you retake. I swear I'll help you more next year.'

'Really guys, don't worry about it,' Kevin insisted, shrinking away from them. 'It's not your fault - it's mine. I should have… tried harder, been cleverer, worked more - something.'

'Don't be stupid, Kev. It's not your fault. It's Snape's -' Stephen started, but was cut short.

'But that's the whole problem, isn't it?' Kevin burst out. '_Poor little bastard boy Kevin, too stupid to even pass his end of year exams. _I guess I'll just go find a hole or something and hope that the worms, at least, aren't as stupid as I am.' With that, he turned and fled the room, his result sheet crumpled and ripped, lying despondently on his bed as an all-too-real reminder to Stephen and Harry of the fight that had just happened.

'What was _that_ about?' Stephen asked, his insecurity hidden behind an entirely pureblood mask of disdain and superiority.

Harry sighed and pushed his glasses further up his nose, so he could pinch the bridge of it. 'I dunno, Steve, but unless you lose the attitude, you'll never know.'

Stephen's shoulders fell, mask vanished as rapidly as it appeared and the twelve year old pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured.

'Don't be,' Harry replied quickly. 'It's not your fault. I think Kevin was just more upset by his Potions mark than he let on - he really has worked really hard this year. You couldn't have known that he'd react so badly.'

'Bullshit,' Stephen muttered. 'I called him "stupid", Harry, this mess _is_ my fault. I could kick myself.'

Harry shot him a queer look. 'Don't beat yourself up,' was all he said, not denying that what Stephen said was the truth. 'I'm going to go find him. Stay here.'

'Don't forget we have to be packed by nine tonight!' Stephen called out as Harry left.

It took the black-haired boy just over half an hour to find his friend. It was only because Harry knew Kevin so well that it didn't take twice that time - Hogwarts was a massive, complex palace of twisting corridors, dead ends and secret passageways and over the past school year Kevin had learnt it's ins an outs better than any other First Year. However, he still had his favourite places, just like everyone else, and it was these spots that Harry checked first.

He found Kevin eventually, curled up in one of the many sub-rooms off a disused class room near the Gryffindor tower.

'Leave me alone,' Kevin said when he heard his friend enter. 'I don't want or need your pity.'

'Good.' Harry said, startling, Kevin into looking up at him. 'Because you don't bloody well have it.'

Kevin winced and turned away from him, leaning his head back against the stone wall it had been resting against before. 'Then why are you here? To gloat some more over _stupid_ Kevin's _stupid_ grades?'

'I don't pity you because, God damn it if you don't have the best grades out of all of us! You may have sucked some serious ass in Potions, but look at the rest of your grades, you got pretty much straight 'O's and the ones that aren't are 'E's.'

The smaller boy turned his face further away, but not far enough that Harry didn't see the tears that fell from Kevin's eyes and streaked down his cheeks. 'But I failed Potions. You didn't fail at anything, nor did Steve.'

'Snape's a shit teacher, Kev. No one's going to blame you for failing. Everyone knows that you work your butt off doing your best. If Snape can't even be bothered to give you the extra tutoring you need, then quit his class.'

Kevin's head snapped up again at that. 'Quit?' he whispered.

Harry stuttered for a moment, never intending to give that advice to his friend but, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. 'Yeah, why not? Apply to start one of the more advanced subjects early and drop Potions. It's unconventional, but it's clear that you're never going to be any good at Potions, and you're clever enough to pick up another subject.'

'O-okay,' Kevin stuttered back, then grinned tentatively back at Harry. 'Could I still come to your house over the holidays?'

'Of course,' Harry responded, beaming at his friend, and jumping forward to give his friend a bear hug, not noticing the slight flinch that Kevin gave before he relaxed and returned the hug.

The boys returned to their dorm room shortly afterwards, but neither Stephen nor Kevin seemed willing to breach the sudden silence that sprung up between them. For a while Harry suffered playing the middle-man, but his temper was short and he was tired. It had been a long, stressful week, and an even longer, more stressful year and he was really looking forward to being able to go home and relax. Long before curfew arrived, Harry had closed the drapes around his bed, cutting off the other boys and settled down with a book.

The stagnant silence of tense, uncertain emotions stayed between Harry's friends for all of the train ride home the following day, broken only by stiff goodbyes when each of the boys went separate ways. Harry stifled the need to scream at both of them and fell gratefully into Remus' arms.

'You alright there, cub?' Remus asked, full of concern.

'Take me away from this insanity. I want a big cup of hot chocolate and a Monty Python Movie.'

Remus didn't push any further, though he could see the obvious stress that Harry was under. He couldn't understand it - Harry had rebounded wonderfully well after his run-in with Quirrell and then the Headmaster - it was strange that Harry was now bowing to some unseen pressure.

'Calm down, Dad, it's nothing terrible. Just… Kevin's Potion Grade caused a bit of a fight. You know how it is. People talk before they think and boundaries get crossed… I dunno. Kev and Steve aren't speaking at the moment, basically. Try playing the middle man for an entire day's train ride with no reprieve. I almost wished Snape'd walk in so I'd have someone to talk to. And Merlin knows how much of a conversationalist Snape is.'

Remus let out a light snort of amusement, then coughed to try and cover it, though not before he saw his cub's grin. 'Trust me, I've been there, done that. Your Dad and Pads were best mates, and you must know that the better friends you are with someone the bigger the fall out. And they were _very_ good friends.'

'Funny how the "creature" among the humans is the peacekeeper,' Harry blurted, then realised what he'd said and rapidly began to backtrack. 'Aw, _jeez_, I didn't mean like that, I just meant that, you know, your reputation - well, not _your_ reputation, but you know-'

'Relax kiddo,' Remus said, ruffling Harry's hair, then wrapping his arm about Harry's shoulders and tugging him to his side. 'I know what you mean.' For a brief moment, he allowed a shadow of the werewolf through, his teeth lengthening and sharpening just a little and his golden eyes turning almost yellow in colour.

Harry grinned roguishly back, making his Dad chuckle warmly and revert back to his normal appearance. 'Now, oh child of mine, I do believe you have an explanation to give?' he asked, eyebrow raised as he led Harry towards the boundary.

The eleven year old shrugged, only partly to get rid of the arm still around his shoulder. 'Not here. It's a story best told when there aren't any innocent bystanders around. And where Siri is so you worry more about his reaction than your own.'

'You know you're making it sound worse and worse, right?' Remus asked lightly, though there was a depth of concern in his tone.

Harry shrugged again. 'I guess,' was all he would say on the matter. 'I'm just going to run and say goodbye to the others,' he added, before racing off.

Remus sighed and shook his head at his son's antics. As transparent as a window, that one, and he knew well enough where the skill had come from. Sirius, too, could be spotted a mile off when he got himself into trouble. Although Remus rather suspected that it wasn't Harry that was the root of the trouble this time. From the way that he'd been talking in the Hospital Wing either someone had done something that shouldn't get back to Dumbledore, or Dumbledore himself had been lying. For the sake of old beliefs Remus hoped it was the former.

Harry re-emerged from throught the smoke looking more scruffy than when he disappeared and grinning a little ruefully.

'Alright?' Remus asked, placing a hand back on Harry's shoulder.

'Yep. It's been a long year," Harry replied. 'Let's go home.'

-oOo-

Harry was right of course. It didn't make Remus feel any better when, half an hour after Harry had finished explaining why he'd spent three days in hospital from injuries _Dumbledore _had given him rather than Voldemort, he realised that he'd spent those thirty minutes trying to rationalise to an irate Sirius. Harry had left as soon as the story was done, a cowardly route to take, perhaps, but Harry wasn't a Gryffindor and Remus couldn't blame him for not wanting to have to deal with Sirius.

The animagus was furious. He'd spent the first five minutes making abortive movements to throw something or punch something until that had settled down into a lot of yelling and storming up and down the living room floor with Remus desperately trying to talk him out of leaving then and there. Punching Dumbledore in the face would be satisfying for all of five minutes, Remus rationalised, before the Aurors got there and Sirius found himself thrown into the prison cell that had been waiting for ten years with his name on it.

'I can't believe that doddery old fool!' Sirius yelled after a long stream of more volatile insults and finally collapsing into an armchair. 'I just about forgive leaving Harry with the Dursleys - the old man probably didn't know how bad they'd be - I can even, just about, forgive him for still believing me guilty of my best friend's murder. He did think that I was the secret keeper. But this last year… this last year has been ridiculous. That's Harry that he's playing God with, and I won't have it, not with my little prongslet!'

Remus sighed and lowered his head back to his hands. 'And what, precisely, are you going to do about it, Sirius? There's nothing you _can_ do. As much as it hurts me to say this, but it's Harry's fight from now on. He'll come to us for help, and we'll do our best, but neither of us is in a position where we can demand anything of the Ministry.'

'It's not fair," Sirius grumbled. 'You're just as human as the rest of us all but one day of the month and I never did anything wrong!'

It wasn't his fault he laughed at that, really it wasn't. Some of the things Sirius came up with were just brilliant beyond words, that was all. 'Siri, love, you've done more wrong than most Hogwarts students combined!'

'I've never killed anyone.'

'You almost have,' Remus pointed out as an uncomfortable reminder. 'And I'm not human, you have to remember that.'

'You are though!' Sirius argued back. 'One night a month, you're not, but the rest of the time you are just like the rest of us - better, even, because you're such a good person!'

Remus shook his head. 'I'm not. I'm a werewolf all the time Siri, it's not something that I switch on and off. I haven't been human since I was four years old and I'll never be human again.'

Sirius huffed and rolled his shoulders agitatedly, but didn't say anything else.

'I love you, you know,' Remus told him softly, perching on the arm of his chair and leaning across to massage the other man's shoulders. 'When you stand up for me, or Harry, or something you believe in - it means a lot. Even if you're coming at it from the wrong angle or have missed the point entirely. I love that you still have a voice, that you're not afraid to stand up and say what you feel.'

'What use is a voice if it can't be heard?' Sirius complained, trying to remain stiff and unyielding but failing utterly beneath Remus' hands.

Remus glanced up to the doorway, to check that Harry wasn't still listening in and, deaming it safe, slid down into Sirius' lap. 'I can hear you,' he murmured, kissing him softly. 'I can hear you defend me. And that's all that matters.'

And Sirius couldn't help but smile underneath his lips and wrap his arms around Remus' waist. 'You're a very distracting man, Remus Lupin,' he told him seriously, between kisses.

'Werewolf,' Remus corrected with an indulgent smile.

Sirius hmmed in appreciation and tugged Remus' shirt free of his trousers. '_My_ werewolf,' he agreed.

At the feel of Sirius' hands sliding down his back under his shirt and into his pants and trousers Remus let out a low sigh. 'Can't do this here,' he reminded.

'Sure we can,' Sirius said with a cocky grin, squeezing his arse cheeks and tugging their hips closer.

'Harry,' Remus reminded, laughing when Sirius' hands disappeared from his body.

'Moony,' the other man whined. 'Why'd you have to go and say things like that?'

Remus stood up, grabbing hold of Sirius and pulling him upright too. 'Come on then, up to the bedroom.'

Sirius shook his head mournfully, following Remus up the stairs like a naughty boy being sent to his room without supper. 'I never thought I'd become so _domestic_,' he complained. 'I miss the days of shagging in whatever room we wanted, whenever we wanted.'

It was wilful neglect on Remus' part, not reminding Sirius that those particular days had consisted of the last school year and the few short months before the end of the war. All the time in between they'd had Harry in the house to care for. And, whilst on occasion it hadn't stopped them, the embarrassing stuttering of their ward the following day was an experience they always tried to avoid. But Remus can, perhaps, be forgiven this oversight since it really didn't take that long to reach the master bedroom.

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_AN: Not the greatest come back ever, but it was an awkward point in the story. And hey, I gave you Sirius/Remus slash. I know you guys are reading it for the 'Snupin' later on, but we must make do with what we have until we get there, yes? And before you get any perverted ideas (probably too late) Harry is scruffier after saying goodbye to his friends because he got attacked by the Weasley twins. I just cut that scene cos it didn't quite fit._

_Now, I shall leave you with no promise other than there will be a next chapter. Wish me luck ;)_

_Much love,  
Cal  
xxx_

_PS Not to advertise another author much, but if you're a fan of Harry Potter crossovers (specifically Star Trek or Tin Man) check out TheDullYellowEye. S/he has done the impossible and written a believable StarTrekXHarryPotter. And s/he's even managed to get in a little light Kirk/Spock and Harry/Bones (!). Much love 3.__ Check out my fav authors/stories if you're interested._


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